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break up poem

um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
gloom
em seu vôo
é frequentemente não assim?
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
eu sou velho e cego
sob a lua da colheita
uma vida na onda do oceano
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
como águias na elevação ascendente

 



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