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family poetry

sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
passagem através das paredes huddled e feias
eu ouvi-os na noite
os prayers brancos pequenos
escuro-eyed
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcão
as montanhas são povos silenciosos
eu tenho que dizer good-night
glass-blower do tempo
entre as montanhas eu vagueei

 



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