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wedding poetry

minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
o mestre de destinies humanos é mim
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
três dias eu ouvi-os afligir-se quando eu coloco absolutamente
em seu vôo
os poetas dizem
do assoalho ao teto
macia weeping
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã

 



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