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contemporary poetry

eu sou velho e cego
splendor doce
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
a lua levantando-se escondeu as estrelas
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
e com o pįssaro humming
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
melhore do que o granito
os drowses pįlidos do dia no ocidental embebem
śltima meia-noite

 



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