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grandma poem

sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
era non per quell'odore singolare
quando la notte va alla deriva lungo le vie della cittŕ
mi sono levato in piedi
mescolisi
sono vecchio e cieco
mai in tutta la mia vita
parla non bene
mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
il sole č in su

 



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