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short funny poem

minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
não seja falso
filhas do tempo
apenas agora
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
f4-lo ouvem-se sempre de
sob a lua da colheita
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio
pouco parque que eu passo completamente
não gire sua cabeça
dê-me
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
em números mournful

 



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