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father poem

nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
uma vez este turf macio
sob a folha dusky do laurel
eu vi a primeira pera
o único punho clenched levantado e apronta-se
eu nunca soube que a terra teve assim muito ouro
travails da terra
meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
fraco-é voada a canção
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes

 



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