.Ero solo come un ombrello su una
Macchina da cucire.
Dalle pendici dei monti Iblei,
A settentrione.
Ho percorso il cammino, arrampicandomi
Per universi e mondi,
Con atti di pensiero e umori cerebrali.
L'abisso non mi chiama, sto sul ciglio
Come un cespuglio: quieto co.
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