Insensati orpelli si susseguono
Nel grigiore evanescente.
Il vecchio s'agita ed esalta
Follemente nel suo talamo
Di morte.
venerdì 10 settembre 2010
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Poetry is that subtle, inner spark which puts together the fragments of the fragile human soul, especially the contemporary one, and fills it in. This occurs everytime, whereever a human being happens to be, and whenever they happen to practise it in their life. Sometimes it seems to be hidden and buried in the deep inside, sometimes it abruptly comes out with violence and vehemence, but it is always there, in the deep spirit, ready to rise and express itself.
Gran brutta cosa la vecchiaia ignorata dalla civiltà moderna!
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