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best love poem

o ar é como uma borboleta
trançado e tecido
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
escuro-eyed
desolado e solitário
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
vontade você glimmer no mar?

 



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