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poem for pastors

talvez
macia agora a luz do dia
o Ăşnico punho clenched levantado e apronta-se
a festa real foi feita
levantado dos mortos
três anos há hoje
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
cidade que nĂŁo Ă© uma cidade
como selvagem, como bruxa-como estranho que a vida deve ser

 



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