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lyric poem

qual se mantem
esse ano
caído assim
pela costa, pelo mar
deixe-me mover-se lentamente através da rua
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
sobre o rio beckon a mim
glass-blower do tempo
eu não posso dizê-lo agora
a noite era preta e drear
os navios estão encontrando-se na baía
se eu for muito certo

 



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