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mom poem

as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
eu vi-o uma vez antes
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril
os prayers brancos pequenos
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
sombras voadas que varrem perto
eu não queimo nenhum incense

 



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