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suicide poem

última noite a lua cheia colocou um pano do branco
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
há três maneiras em que os homens fazem exame
esplêndido e terrível seu amor
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
três anos há hoje
como águias na elevação ascendente
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
o que mim lhe devem
eu disse
como uma vela branca

 



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