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cowboy poetry

há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
as montanhas săo povos silenciosos
faça exame de meus bracelets
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
há qualquer um lá
para a verdade, para o amor
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
eu năo queimo nenhum incense
o céu

 



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