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death poetry

sono, irmão cinzento da morte
ainda treze anos
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar
têm você não ouvido
desde que, se você estiver por meu lado hoje
os arcos da ponte vermelha
você é bonito e desvanecido
quando liberdade de sua altura da montanha
para então without
quem estará nomeando o vento

 



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