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prose poetry

i drowses pallidi di giorno sull'occidentale bagnano
qui cade nessuna luce
pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
quale desidero rilevare
la nerezza rotola verso l'alto
non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso

 



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