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in acest poem aproape ca nu mai deosebesc ziua de noapte
desi limbile lor le stiu pe de rost, iar adevaratul meu chip sta intr-un sac mare din caietul dictando in acest poem sunt atat de multe gauri in cer, picaturi mari de sange ma lovesc cu nerusinare, si uite asa am ajuns sa desir panza asta nefolositoare, tanguitorul meu testament.
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