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prose poetry

para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
muito bem, vocę liberais
em todas as coisas năo faladas de
ainda treze anos
eu penso d esplęndido justo
no porto de york novo
fala năo bem
esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés
eu v todas as sagacidades humanas
os prayers brancos pequenos
o mestre de destinies humanos é mim
eu nunca soube que a terra teve assim muito ouro

 



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