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mother poem

quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
nossos momentos agradáveis voam
ao lado de um campo stricken
não permaneça não mais
deus
sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
eu vi as nuvens entre os montes
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
talvez
dê-me
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem

 



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