The Summer that we did not prize,Her treasures were so easyInstructs us by departing nowAnd recognition lazy – Bestirs itself – puts on it’s CoatAnd scans with fatal promptnessFor Trains that moment out of sightUnconscious of his smartness – (Emily Dickinson) L’estate che non abbiamo apprezzato,Tanto accessibili erano i suoi tesoriOra ci fa sentire la […]

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