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fall poem

nunca em toda minha vida
o prado estava rastejando
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
a terra mantem algum ir da vibração
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vĂ´o do falcĂŁo
veja, eles retornam
os arcos da ponte vermelha
os corredores de mármore resounding longos
em e sobre
lá pela janela na casa velha

 



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