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black poetry

a noite era preta e drear
caras bonitas, tragical
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
fraco-é voada a canção
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
eu penso d esplêndido justo
em possa
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
um pássaro cantou
desolado e solitário
do assoalho ao teto

 



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