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type of poem

o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
quando eu retornei no por do sol
em possa
tempestade
eu não posso sempre sentir seu greatness
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
eu sobre-tinha preparado o evento
sob a folha dusky do laurel
como nivelar cai
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
eu sou velho e cego

 



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