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child poem

non posso ora dirvi
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante
ci è una città, builded da nessuna mano
cara moglie
in corridoi di sonno avete vagato vicino
una penna di acciaio
fino alla sua finestra dell'alloggiamento
sposti la terra in tempo nuvoloso

 



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