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narrative poetry

eu sou velho e cego
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
eu vi-o uma vez antes
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
quando o vento trabalhar de encontro a nós na obscuridade
ao longo dos bancos
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
acima de e para baixo vai
ainda treze anos
eu amei uma mulher
em possa

 



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