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grandmother poem

eu não pray para a paz
eu gosto d
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
o dia é feito
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcão
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
traga-me a canção macia
em setembro
há três maneiras em que os homens fazem exame
é frequentemente não assim?
vivido pelo river-side
receoso não mais, eu digo


 



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