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baby poem

questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
il padrone dei destini umani sono io
babylon -- dove vado sognare
ma alas, sogni giusti
sono vecchio e cieco
ci è un'ora di riposo pacifico
alti pareti ed enorme
ha detto
ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite
nel vostro volo

 



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