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child poem

porque
sob a lua da colheita
entre as montanhas eu vagueei
dê-me a fome
glass-blower do tempo
o sol está acima
não gire sua cabeça
é ido
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
eu vi as estrelas as mais orgulhosas
quando uma ação for feita para a liberdade
alguns dias mais ventosos
eu sou velho e cego

 



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