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fall poetry

eu sou velho e cego
eu tenho que dizer good-night
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingüeta
esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés
quando eu era quebrou em Londres
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
a escuridão rola para cima
entre as montanhas eu vagueei

 



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