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ES gibt

etwas, was sich
nicht zähmen lässt
et un parfum
di roselline selvatiche
che pervade i miei sogni
e li consuma
lasciandone stracci
to clean up my histories.

etwas, was sich
nicht finden lässt
in the future memories
of a garden filled with places,
full of times for
wonderfulness.

etwas, was
wants to
dwell unnoticed
per quell’attimo eterno
in cui esiste davvero
– poi, tornare nel buio.

etwas,
in cui io credo /
in cui non credo.

Et etwas
um meinem – vuoto –

et si on tombait sur
un punto indistinto?

Etwas, to add dimensions.

How could we call
the creating creation?

Published inworld poetry