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type of poetry

minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
a algum os deuses gordos
quem ama a chuva
noite misteriosa
como águias na elevação ascendente
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
eu vi-o uma vez antes
filhas do tempo
f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
um pássaro cantou
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
escuro-eyed

 



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