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suicide poem

eighty anos passaram, e mais
com os olhos meek, marrons
cai aqui nenhuma luz
glass-blower do tempo
na meia-noite
eu estive pelo casement aberto
em todas as coisas năo faladas de
entre as montanhas eu vagueei
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
alguns dos hurts que vocę se curou
a luz retirada
sob a lua da colheita
a o que uma mulher a comparará beloved
o doce com fern e levantou-se

 



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