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good bye poem

truely
in corridoi di sonno avete vagato vicino
il rullo triste del tamburo desonorizzato ha battimento
quegli occhi neri i una volta così elogiato
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
nel porto di nuovo York
era non per quell'odore singolare
figlie di tempo
mistero più scuro e più sconosciuto
splendor dolce

 



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