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i love you poem

eu ganhei a raça
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
quem estará nomeando o vento
conseqüentemente eu não posso
há três maneiras em que os homens fazem exame
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
o céu
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
os prayers brancos pequenos
de repente, fora das maneiras escuras e frondosas

 



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