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daughter poem

levantado dos mortos
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
eu amo roubar por algum tempo afastado
doubtless eu recordo ainda
a criança que jogou afastado a folha após a folha
aqueles no superior dizem que o conhecem, terra -- são liars
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
ao longo dos bancos
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
com os olhos meek, marrons

 



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