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thanksgiving poem

eu vim no deserto porque minha alma é athirst
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
o dia é feito
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta
a festa real foi feita
paredes e enorme elevados
não gire sua cabeça
há um que esse i amou uma vez assim muito

 



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