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urdu poetry

em sua barraca guardada
uma vida na onda do oceano
o ar é como uma borboleta
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coraçăo da pedra
a algum os deuses gordos
agite
entre as montanhas eu vagueei
glass-blower do tempo
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
seu cabelo bonito
sadly falando
eu vi os archangels em minha maçă-árvore última noite

 



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