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lost love poem

sombras voadas que varrem perto
sob a lua da colheita
o céu
paredes e enorme elevados
como deva mim ajude à direita ao mundo que está indo erradamente
cidade que não é uma cidade
você ouve a chuva?
eu disse
escute o mar soando
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
a terra mantem algum ir da vibração
deixe-nos plantar

 



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