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life poem

minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
musing, entre o por do sol e a obscuridade
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes
eu sobre-tinha preparado o evento

 



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