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acrostic poem

até sua janela da câmara
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
sob a folha dusky do laurel
era muitas e muito um ano há
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
muito bem, você liberais
a algum os deuses gordos
o doce com fern e levantou-se
o prado estava rastejando
na esfera

 



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