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teen poem

se esso
splendor dolce
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
la gradisco
le montagne sono gente silenziosa
il rullo triste del tamburo desonorizzato ha battimento
ci situiamo
quando ho esaminato i vostri occhi
in pieno delle rotture
poco parco che attraverso
prima del san bronze solenne
sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
come come le stelle è questo il bianco, facce nameless
uccelli contro il vento di aprile

 



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