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mother poem

o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
duas fileiras dos repolhos
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
eu estou cantando-lhe
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
eu vou minha maneira complacently
rosas e ouro
eu não queimo nenhum incense
para prestar atenção o dia inteiro à onda azul ondular e quebrar
macia agora a luz do dia

 



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