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poetry poem

săo idos os tręs, aquelas irmăs raras
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
laranjas arrancando nubian azul-pretas
era uma oysterman novo alto
para prestar atençăo o dia inteiro ŕ onda azul ondular e quebrar

 



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