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life poem

as canções velhas
eighty anos passaram, e mais
o dia é feito
um pensamento doce solemn
perguntam-me onde eu estive
meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
como águias na elevação ascendente
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
eu ouvi o vento o dia inteiro
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama

 



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