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a agonia de ter demasiado poder
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
um pęssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
de encontro ŕ flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
a mulher faltou-me muito, como vocę se chama me, chamada
agora quando meus bordos viverem
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas

 



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