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sex poem

fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
o corpo pode confinar
eu quero saber às vezes se for realmente verdadeiro
sad são que sabem não o amor
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
era uma beleza nos dias
mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
agite
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
gaily através dos campos nós dançamos
sob a folha dusky do laurel

 



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