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poem for dad

mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano
dal ponticello rude
la notte scorsa la luna piena ha posto un panno del bianco
ora per una lotta attiva e cheerful
dai prati ricchi con cereale
la terra mantiene certo andare di vibrazione
prima del san bronze solenne
città che non è una città
era un oysterman giovane alto
la gradisco
ho vinto la corsa
dicami più di meno o dicami di più
dove io trovili

 



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