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short poem

quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
deixe um sustento da alegria você
laranjas arrancando nubian azul-pretas
talvez
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
travails da terra
o relâmpago piscou, e levantou
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
se eu for muito certo
ruídos que strive rasgar
na esfera

 



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