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grandmother poem

na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
sob a lua da colheita
eu amo roubar por algum tempo afastado
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
sono, irmăo cinzento da morte
as estrelas caíram do heaven
qual se mantem
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado

 



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