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son poem

laranjas arrancando nubian azul-pretas
nobility da morte outra vez
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
eu sou fevered
jogaram uma pedra, você jogaram uma pedra
uma milha atrás
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
como águias na elevação ascendente
e como poderia você sonho da reunião
através do peito aching da terra larga

 



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