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sad poetry

você está desobstruído
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
diga-me não
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
sob a folha dusky do laurel
os dias melancólicos vieram
levantado dos mortos
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
material da lua
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
uma vez este turf macio
a música i ouvido com você era mais do que a música
e assim vai
gloom

 



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