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kid poem

era năo para esse cheiro singular
eighty anos passaram, e mais
do assoalho ao teto
olhar além
quando eu retornei no por do sol
onde deva mim encontre-o
é ido
disse
năo pendure nenhuma grinalda
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
ao longo de um river-side
quem estará nomeando o vento
em setembro
da cançăo e do sonho para ido sempre

 



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