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poem for pastors

os corredores de mármore resounding longos
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
eu vim no deserto porque minha alma é athirst
a terra mantem algum ir da vibração
uma tempestade está montando na maré
raça elevado-carregada
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
veio fazer exame de me pela mão
sobre o rio beckon a mim

 



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