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irmão, eu sou fogo
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
não seja falso
são você vivo?
no porto de york novo
todos aqueles tesouros que se encontram
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio
raça elevado-carregada
até sua janela da câmara
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
em números mournful
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas

 



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