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best friend poem

pouco parque que eu passo completamente
jogaram uma pedra, vocĂŞ jogaram uma pedra
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
até sua janela da câmara
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
era o outono do ano
duas fileiras dos repolhos
eu estou cantando-lhe
levantado dos mortos
e nse
nĂŁo do mundo largo do todo
era nĂŁo para esse cheiro singular

 



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