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friendship poetry

il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
conosco non dove
ha una radura, loveliness vento-riparato
poich ho ritenuto il senso della morte
i cieli che erano ashen e sobrio
il singolo pugno serrato alzato e ready
impaurito nient'altro, dico
per coprire il pensiero ardente
sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
non si addolori che finito

 



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