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modern poetry

do sol nem das estrelas
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
eu não queimo nenhum incense
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
completamente dos rasgos
eu verei uma estrela hoje à noite
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
diga-me
desolado e solitário

 



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