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autumn poem

eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
macia weeping
lá pela janela na casa velha
na meia-noite
prazeres mid e palácios embora nós podemos vaguear
há um país completamente do vinho
calma como que segundo verão
as sombras dos navios
deixe o unsaid encantador das palavras
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
esse ano
eu sou o vento que wavers
deve ir para trás, disse

 



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