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graduation poem

estes sejam
há um que esse i amou uma vez assim muito
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
eu vi as estrelas as mais orgulhosas
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
cidade que não é uma cidade
mas alas, sonhos justos
em setembro
eu quero saber onde você vive
quem é o corredor nos céus
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio

 



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