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daughter poem

sono, irmão cinzento da morte
deixe-nos plantar
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingüeta
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
mas alas, sonhos justos
sobre o rio, no monte
não há nenhum rebanho, porém prestado atenção e tendido
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim

 



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