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baby poem

estourou o vinho feroz
melancolia, azul era
podem falar do amor em uma casa de campo
as estrelas caíram do heaven
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhă
eu vi os archangels em minha maçă-árvore última noite
deve ir para trás, disse
sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
a algum os deuses gordos
săo idos os tręs, aquelas irmăs raras

 



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