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christmas poetry

perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
quindi non posso
la canzone e sogno da per andato mai
tutti si acquietano lungo il potomac
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
in pieno delle rotture
glass-blower di tempo
le stelle sono caduto da cielo
i corridoi di marmo resounding lunghi
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
non si addolori che finito

 



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