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brother poem

mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril
ao longo dos bancos
alguns dos hurts que você se curou
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
e com o pássaro humming
uma vez este turf macio
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
diga-me não
assim perdido
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite

 



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