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sad death poem

a noite era preta e drear
havia um momento em anos anteriores
glass-blower do tempo
nĂŁo pendure nenhuma grinalda
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
eu sou fevered
eu amo roubar por algum tempo afastado
mil anos silenciosos há
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril
Ăşltima meia-noite
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta

 



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