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christian poem

faccialo rotare giù dal prato
qui si trova una signora la più bella
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
non sia arrabbiato con me
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
benchè sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
fra le montagne ho vagato
e con l'uccello di ronzio
movimento del vostro corpo è come musica
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea

 



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