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concrete poetry

o que mim lhe devem
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
este é o arsenal
qual eu desejo observar
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
era o outono do ano
nunca em toda minha vida
escute
quando liberdade de sua altura da montanha
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
o que nós fará agora
macia weeping
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
conseqüentemente eu não posso

 



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