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retirement poem

questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
gli archi del ponticello rosso
vedrņ stasera una stella
non eravamo molti
vivo dalla riva del fiume
in tutte le cose non parlate di
un pensiero dolce solenne
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
ho avuto un sogno e mi sono svegliato con esso
dal sud alla rottura del giorno
dicami non
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
tutti gli anni sfavorevoli

 



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