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footprint poem

na meia-noite
ainda treze anos
eu estou morrendo
a festa real foi feita
em uma câmara velha iluminou-se macia
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
e nse
os poetas dizem
como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless
na terra silenciosa
na esfera
eu tenho que dizer good-night

 



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