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autumn poetry

veja, desta moeda falsa dele
algum queixou-se ao mestre
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
calma como que segundo verão
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
eu tive um medo em minha vida
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras

 



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