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grandmother poem

eu não pray para a paz
eu olhei em cima do céu glorious
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
a criança que jogou afastado a folha após a folha
existir da cisne
arched a inundação
como deva mim ajude à direita ao mundo que está indo erradamente
sobre o rio, no monte
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo

 



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