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thanksgiving poem

pôde tê-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada
doubtless eu recordo ainda
sobre o rio beckon a mim
material da lua
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
eu ouvi-me que uma determinada princesa
sob a lua da colheita
melancolia, azul era
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres

 



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