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black poetry

em sua barraca guardada
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies
ao longo dos bancos
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
nós não éramos muitos
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
eu detestei-o
eighty anos passaram, e mais

 



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