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death poem

pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril
o sol está acima
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
quando eu era um menino na faculdade
eu nunca soube que a terra teve assim muito ouro
eu sei năo onde
muito bem, vocę liberais
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
olhar além
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
esta é a cançăo da juventude
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso

 



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