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retirement poem

vindo para baixo no alvorecer dos montes windless
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
para trás, gire para trás
traga-me a canção macia
por muito tempo há, no moonlight novo
eu não queimo nenhum incense
eu detestei-o
diga-me
de repente, fora das maneiras escuras e frondosas
podem falar do amor em uma casa de campo
dê-me a fome

 



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