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type of poem

você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
pensamentos através de minha cabeça
para vestir o pensamento impetuoso
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
em todas as coisas não faladas de
qual eu desejo observar
conseqüentemente eu não posso
glass-blower do tempo
o dia é feito
eu vi com olhos abertos

 



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