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poetry for kid

minha me twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
seu cabelo bonito
quando liberdade de sua altura da montanha
perguntam-me onde eu estive
como ele de quem esprito na chama do meio-dia
ido
veja que eu me dou a voc
talvez no nenhuma matria que voc morreu
na terra silenciosa

 



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