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acrostic poem

una foschia stava guidando giù
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
conosco non dove
sopra il fiume, sulla collina
non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
non rimanga nient'altro
addolorisi non per l'invisibile
stuff della luna
il lampo ha esposto a flash ed ha alzato
le canzoni antiche
ci sono tre sensi in cui gli uomini prendono
quando la notte va alla deriva lungo le vie della città

 



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