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poetry in motion

eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
eu vi-o uma vez antes
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina
como águias na elevação ascendente
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
eu fiz um voto uma vez, um somente
bonito
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred

 



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