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sad love poem

minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
são você acordado?
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
e como poderia você sonho da reunião
jogaram uma pedra, você jogaram uma pedra
melancolia, azul era
de repente, fora das maneiras escuras e frondosas
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu

 



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