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teenage love poem

uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes
quem estará nomeando o vento
a algum os deuses gordos
em todas as coisas não faladas de
eu penso d esplêndido justo
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
algum queixou-se ao mestre
eu vou minha maneira complacently
truely

 



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