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father poem

não gire sua cabeça
sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
desde que, se você estiver por meu lado hoje
carrinho aqui por meu lado
esplêndido e terrível seu amor
esse ano
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
em seu vôo
o prado estava rastejando
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
deixe-nos plantar
para trás, gire para trás

 



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