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lost love poem

se ele
não há nenhum rebanho, porém prestado atenção e tendido
as montanhas são povos silenciosos
ruídos que strive rasgar
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
o que mim lhe devem
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
sob a lua da colheita

 



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