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christian poem

un poet, având în frâu luate de pe limba
I sta în frig gri vreme
soarelui este de până
umbre pune lungul Broadway
îmi iubesc ora de vânt şi de lumina
aici nu cade lumina
care va fi de denumire de vânt
atât de căzut
poate că nu contează este că ai murit
vrei sa auzi de ploaie?
şi numele meu este veridică
înviat din morţi
sus şi în jos se duce

 



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