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teen poem

così caduto
della l'oscurità e pace nel mia base finale
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi
ma non posso ora leggerlo
stuff della luna
riassunto su una notte di volo
non posso ora dirvi
chi chiamerà il vento
lungo le serie
i corridoi di marmo resounding lunghi
nel porto di nuovo York

 



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