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poem for pastors

as sombras dos navios
caras bonitas, tragical
sob a lua da colheita
uma vida na onda do oceano
olhar além
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
evidenciado no glimmer em seus olhos
eu não posso dizê-lo agora
eu sei o que você está indo dizer
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
nós não éramos muitos
não pendure nenhuma grinalda

 



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