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romantic poem

e ainda andaram sobre
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
o único punho clenched levantado e apronta-se
você recorda
eu estou morrendo
sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
sobre o rio beckon a mim
do sol nem das estrelas
esteja em mim como os modos eternal
ainda treze anos
rode-me para baixo pelo prado

 



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