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modern poetry

minha alma Ă© um campo ploughed escuro
para vestir o pensamento impetuoso
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
eu fui acima e trago as ruas
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
o céu
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
pouca porta foi alcançada no último

 



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