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grandmother poem

para a verdade, para o amor
eu quero saber às vezes se for realmente verdadeiro
os arcos da ponte vermelha
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
eu detestei-o
simplesmente falando
o rolo sad do cilindro muffled tem a batida
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
era não para esse cheiro singular
desde que, se você estiver por meu lado hoje
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
os poetas dizem

 



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