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poetry in motion

tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
irmão, eu sou fogo
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina
teria mesmo seu gracejo
eu ofereci-os todo o farewell
acima de e para baixo vai
passado unrelenting do thou
e assim vai
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
o que era ele os motores ditos

 



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