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black poetry

em uma câmara velha iluminou-se macia
são você vivo?
teria mesmo seu gracejo
e meu nome é truthful
porque então, a obrigação nós vê?
seu cabelo bonito
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
última noite a lua cheia colocou um pano do branco
estes corações foram tecidos de alegrias e de cuidados humanos
como uma vela branca
havia um strangeness em seus bordos
sob a lua da colheita

 



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