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nature poem

una parola di volo di qui e là
l'aria è piena l'alba del e la molla
behold me, in miei chiffon, garza e canutiglia
prima del san bronze solenne
le tonalità della notte stavano cadendo velocemente
quell'anno
sopra loro tutte, osservando giù
una pesca piccola nel frutteto si è sviluppata
qui cade nessuna luce
molto bene, voi liberali
ancora il suo gray oscilla la torretta sopra il mare

 



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