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grandmother poem

a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcão
eighty anos passaram, e mais
babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
era uma beleza nos dias
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
todos tragam os anos
quem ama a chuva
todos aqueles tesouros que se encontram
são você acordado?
as canções antigas
eu prendo seu coração

 



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