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ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
uplifting, come il vento ha saltato
amo la mia ora di vento e di luce
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
quando libertà dalla sua altezza della montagna
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me
quelli sul superiore dicono che li conoscono, terra -- sono liars
come un uomo nudo io va
sono il vento che esita

 



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