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sympathy poem

algum queixou-se ao mestre
eu vi com olhos abertos
eu não queimo nenhum incense
quando eu era um menino na faculdade
em seu vôo
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
um pássaro cantou
eu não posso dizê-lo agora
irmão, eu sou fogo
não gire sua cabeça
um olhar é mas um raio
o corpo pode confinar
não permaneça não mais

 



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