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mom poem

uma palavra do vôo de aqui e lá
sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
um olhar é mas um raio
ao lado de um campo stricken
f4-lo ouvem-se sempre de
năo esteja irritado com mim
nossos momentos agradáveis voam
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
temos nós nenhum shame?

 



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