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pumpkin poem

non si addolori che finito
perchč
l'odore del č aumentato cosě falso, le spine cosě allineare
ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite
glass-blower di tempo
il padrone dei destini umani sono io
a che cosa una donna la paragonerŕ cara
sotto il timone del guerriero
vivo dalla riva del fiume
persino avrebbe suo scherzo
sposti la terra in tempo nuvoloso
forse č materia che avete morto

 



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