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romantic poetry

ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
o relâmpago piscou, e levantou
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
entre as montanhas eu vagueei
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
é ido
caras bonitas, tragical

 



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