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poetry in motion

questi sono
era non per quell'odore singolare
la neve bisbiglia circa me
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me
alla mezzanotte
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
non sia arrabbiato con me
il merriment infinito e insensato delle stelle
sono il vento che esita
a che cosa una donna la paragonerĂ  cara
in corridoi di sonno avete vagato vicino
diami la fame

 



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