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sad poem

pôde tê-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada
deixe-nos piedade aqueles de que seja melhor fora do que nós são
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
eu sou velho e cego
trançado e tecido
em e sobre
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
você é bonito e desvanecido
eu disse, mim fechei meu coração
estourou o vinho feroz

 



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