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spanish poem

eu não pray para a paz
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
o que era ele os motores ditos
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
olhar além
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
veio fazer exame de me pela mão
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno

 



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