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autumn poetry

nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
paredes e enorme elevados
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
quando uma ação for feita para a liberdade
eu vi com olhos abertos
uma pena do aço
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite

 



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