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christmas poem

levantado dos mortos
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
você ouve a chuva?
como ela
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
o dia é feito
a o que uma mulher a comparará beloved
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
eu resido na montanha da tabela

 



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