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child poetry

conseqüentemente eu năo posso
um pęssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
havia um momento em anos anteriores
e assim vai
última noite a lua cheia colocou um pano do branco
material da lua
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
até sua janela da câmara

 



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