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family poem

disse
o rolo sad do cilindro muffled tem a batida
quem ama a chuva
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
eu prendo seu coração
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
eu detestei-o

 



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