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funeral poem

velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
agite
macio como a cama na terra
sobre o rio beckon a mim
tem um espaço livre, loveliness vento-protegido
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
na meia-noite
deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas
calma como que segundo verão
não esteja irritado com mim
as montanhas são povos silenciosos

 



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