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daughter poem

ainda treze anos
esse ano
eu ouvi-os na noite
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
a criança que jogou afastado a folha após a folha
eu estou cantando-lhe
havia um momento em anos anteriores
com seu cabelo que flaying descontroladamente
fala não bem
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
material da lua
levantado dos mortos

 



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