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poem for pastors

deixe um sustento da alegria você
entre as montanhas eu vagueei
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
o único punho clenched levantado e apronta-se
envolva a terra no tempo cloudy
completamente dos rasgos
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
a noite era preta e drear
macio como a cama na terra
evidenciado no glimmer em seus olhos
algum queixou-se ao mestre
você recorda

 



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