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erotic poetry

algum queixou-se ao mestre
eu amo minha vida, mas nĂŁo demasiado bem
em e sobre
não gire sua cabeça
veja, eles retornam
eu tive um medo em minha vida
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes

 



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