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nature poem

o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
aqueles no superior dizem que o conhecem, terra -- são liars
cai aqui nenhuma luz
conseqüentemente eu não posso
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
há uma hora do descanso calmo
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
sob a lua da colheita

 



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