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type of poetry

as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
esta é a canção da juventude
meu amor verdadeiro de seu descanso levantou-se
alguns dias mais ventosos
uma milha atrás
quem estará nomeando o vento
sob a lua da colheita
um pássaro cantou
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
eu estou cantando-lhe

 



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