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poem for dad

eu detestei-o
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
todos tragam os anos
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
porque
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
mil anos silenciosos há
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta
o único punho clenched levantado e apronta-se
para vestir o pensamento impetuoso

 



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