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death poetry

da canção e do sonho para ido sempre
algum queixou-se ao mestre
no alvorecer, disse
todo meu amor para meu doce
homem frio stern
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
ruídos que strive rasgar
nós não éramos muitos
short e doce, e nós viemos à extremidade dela
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
dê-me
você está desobstruído
a escuridão

 



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