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mother poem

qual se mantem
embora repine do amor, e chafe da razão
fraco-é voada a canção
eu estou morrendo
porque
três dias eu ouvi-os afligir-se quando eu coloco absolutamente
quando, cheio do amor morno e ansioso
a neve sussurra sobre mim
todos aqueles tesouros que se encontram
acima de e para baixo vai
este é o arsenal

 



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