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mother daughter poem

uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
eu estive
este Ă© o arsenal
no recolhimento da escuridĂŁo e pedem
eu vi-o uma vez antes
rosas e ouro
e nse
nós não éramos muitos
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verĂŁo brilhada
veja, desta moeda falsa dele

 



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