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angel poem

nĂŁo pendure nenhuma grinalda
quando, cheio do amor morno e ansioso
nĂłs quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
há qualquer um lá
entre as montanhas eu vagueei
o doce com fern e levantou-se
quem ama a chuva
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
com seu cabelo que flaying descontroladamente
macio como a cama na terra

 



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