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poetry in motion

e pão do breaketh mais
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
em sua barraca guardada
eu encho este copo
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
em setembro
eu nunca soube que a terra teve assim muito ouro

 



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