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christmas poems

há uma hora do descanso calmo
bonito
entre as montanhas eu vagueei
para a verdade, para o amor
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingüeta
deve ir para trás, disse
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
noite misteriosa
short e doce, e nós viemos à extremidade dela
assim perdido

 



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