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sad love poem

são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
diga-me não
estourou o vinho feroz
escute
sombras voadas que varrem perto
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
através do peito aching da terra larga
como uma vela branca
de nossos lugares escondidos
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingüeta

 



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