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elements of poetry

perguntam-me onde eu estive
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
eu sou fevered
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril
eu estou morrendo
acima dos prados ricos com milho
eu ouvi o vento o dia inteiro
porque então, a obrigação nós vê?
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
um history muito notável isto é
no porto de york novo
sono, irmão cinzento da morte

 



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