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memorial poem

paredes e enorme elevados
eu nunca soube que a terra teve assim muito ouro
a noite era preta e drear
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
mil anos silenciosos há
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
e ainda andaram sobre
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado
algum queixou-se ao mestre
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes

 



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