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funeral poem

meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
nĂŁo pendure nenhuma grinalda
quando liberdade de sua altura da montanha
em sua barraca guardada
melhore do que o granito
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio

 



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