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friend poem

felicidade
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
a algum os deuses gordos
quando o vento trabalhar de encontro a nós na obscuridade
duas fileiras dos repolhos
as montanhas são povos silenciosos
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
tudo dentro e tudo sem mim
eu prendo seu coração

 



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