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fall poem

os poetas dizem
e pão do breaketh mais
as sombras dos navios
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
em números mournful
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
três dias eu ouvi-os afligir-se quando eu coloco absolutamente
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno

 



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