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thanksgiving poem

a terra mantem algum ir da vibração
sob a folha dusky do laurel
sol e vento e batida do mar
vinho velho a beber
os dias hypocritic
eu resido na montanha da tabela
como deva mim ajude à direita ao mundo que está indo erradamente
pouco parque que eu passo completamente
trançado e tecido
nunca em toda minha vida
splendor doce
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol

 



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