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grandma poem

um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
eu sou o vento que wavers
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
quando eu olhei em seus olhos
sĂŁo idos os trĂŞs, aquelas irmĂŁs raras
trĂŞs dias eu ouvi-os afligir-se quando eu coloco absolutamente
vocĂŞ ouve a chuva?

 



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