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daughter poem

dentro de minha mão eu prendo
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
apenas agora
fala não bem
eu resido na montanha da tabela
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
há um país completamente do vinho
podem falar do amor em uma casa de campo
acima de e para baixo vai
laranjas arrancando nubian azul-pretas
e com o pássaro humming
eu estou morrendo
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina

 



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