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short poem

quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
eu resido na montanha da tabela
para poder ver cada lado de cada pergunta
em seus regimentals ásperos
eu sei o que você está indo dizer
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhĂŁ
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
um pássaro cantou
as canções velhas
rode-me para baixo pelo prado

 



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