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Writer's picturePasquale Puleo

Senza Avviso

La calma  del mattino

Tormentata

Dalla violenza dell’uomo


Non più un gioco

Ma una rabbia

Girata in lotta


L’amicizia

Trasformata in odio

In angoscia senza fine


​La sera tarda

Ad arrivere

Ma la notte aspetta

Senza avviso




Without Warning


The morning calm

Tormented

By the violence of men 


No longer a game

But anger

Turned into battle


Friendship

Transformed into hate

In endless anguish


Evening is too late to arrive

But the night waits

Without warning

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