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son poem

mi domando dove vivete
quando libertà dalla sua altezza della montagna
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
l'aria è piena l'alba del e la molla
persino avrebbe suo scherzo
sono stancare di essere amaro e stancare di essere saggio
per guardare tutto il giorno l'onda blu arricciarsi e rompersi
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
ha detto

 



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