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havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
eu encho este copo
trançado e tecido
porque sĂŁo as coisas que nĂŁo tĂŞm nenhuma morte
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
talvez
não permaneça não mais
a algum os deuses gordos
diz de épocas velhas boas
nĂŁo esteja irritado com mim
minha mĂŁe ensinou-me que cada noite
faça os meninos e as meninas vão ainda
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas

 



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