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a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
e nse
eu vi as nuvens entre os montes
acima dos prados ricos com milho
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
flores dos bebês
melancolia, azul era
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
eu não posso dizê-lo agora
desolado e solitário
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim

 



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