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grandmother poem

era o outono do ano
antes do saint de bronze solemn
estrela-poeira e luz vaporosa
sono, irmăo cinzento da morte
eu estive
o ar é como uma borboleta
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril
pela ponte rude
talvez năo é nenhuma matéria que vocę morreu
renove a visăo do prazer
os navios estăo encontrando-se na baía
esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés

 



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