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love poetry

minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
escute
há qualquer um lá
os corredores de mármore resounding longos
estrela-poeira e luz vaporosa
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
última meia-noite
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
o alvorecer era verde maçã
conseqüentemente eu não posso

 



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