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short poem

trs dias eu ouvi-os afligir-se quando eu coloco absolutamente
eu sou velho e cego
como um homem despido mim vai
em sua barraca guardada
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
sono, irmo cinzento da morte
perguntam-me onde eu estive
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
os drowses plidos do dia no ocidental embebem

 



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