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nature poem

uma palavra do vôo de aqui e lá
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
antes do saint de bronze solemn
as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
esse ano
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
cai aqui nenhuma luz
muito bem, você liberais
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar

 



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