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fall poem

há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
sua cara Ă© justa e lisa e fina
eu ouvi-os na noite
tĂŞm vocĂŞ nĂŁo ouvido
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
sumário em uma noite do vôo

 



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