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poem for pastors

splendor doce
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
doubtless eu recordo ainda
eu vi as estrelas as mais orgulhosas
sol e vento e batida do mar
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
o corpo pode confinar
cidade que năo é uma cidade
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
do assoalho ao teto

 



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