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mom poem

o mestre de destinies humanos é mim
fala não bem
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
eu amei uma mulher
eu sei não onde
há três maneiras em que os homens fazem exame
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
rosas e ouro
os céus que eram ashen e sober
qual eu desejo observar
um com você

 



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