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autumn poetry

esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
um history muito notável isto é
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
laranjas arrancando nubian azul-pretas
agora para uma luta viva e cheerful
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
eu vi-o uma vez antes
doce e forte
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá

 



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