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death poem

esse ano
porque
macia weeping
eu tive um sonho e eu acordei com ele
há uma hora do descanso calmo
até sua janela da câmara
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
balançado no berço do profundo
desde que, se você estiver por meu lado hoje
perguntam-me onde eu estive
eu vi a primeira pera

 



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