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mom poem

os prayers brancos pequenos
ao amante passionate
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
encontra-se aqui uma senhora a mais bonita
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
uma tempestade está montando na maré
eu ouvi o vento o dia inteiro
você ouve a chuva?
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
balançado no berço do profundo
eu resido na montanha da tabela
porque então, a obrigação nós vê?
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras

 



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