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death poetry

a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
eu verei uma estrela hoje à noite
em seu vôo
os dias melancólicos vieram
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
não permaneça não mais
mil anos silenciosos há
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
na esfera
a neve sussurra sobre mim
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas

 



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