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poem for pastors

você está desobstruído
pela costa, pelo mar
você é bonito e desvanecido
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio
há uma hora do descanso calmo
com o por do sol
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
eu ouvi-me que uma determinada princesa
amigo, cujo o sorriso veio ser
teria mesmo seu gracejo

 



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