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autumn poem

gloom
melancolia, azul era
material da lua
um olhar é mas um raio
as sombras dos navios
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
como uma vela branca
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta

 



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