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friend poetry

esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
antes do saint de bronze solemn
as verdades terríveis estes sejam
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
eu ganhei a raça
macia agora a luz do dia
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá

 



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