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suicide poem

non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
i giorni endeared ad ogni MUSE
passato inesorabile di thou
sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
amo la mia ora di vento e di luce
non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
ho fatto una pausa la stoffa per tendine aperta
dalla finestra un mare degli alberi verdi
non prego per pace

 



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