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eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
você ouve a chuva?
ainda treze anos
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
alguns dias mais ventosos
balançado no berço do profundo
cai aqui nenhuma luz
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
eu tive um sonho e eu acordei com ele

 



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