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math poem

eu amo roubar por algum tempo afastado
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
não gire sua cabeça
o ar é como uma borboleta
não seja falso
flores dos bebês
para vestir o pensamento impetuoso
veja, eles retornam
travails da terra

 



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