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brother poem

quietamente, com reverance, no awe
o prado estava rastejando
os céus que eram ashen e sober
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
talvez
meu amor verdadeiro de seu descanso levantou-se
e assim vai
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares

 



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