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mother poem

este é o arsenal
uma tempestade está montando na maré
um pássaro cantou
mas eu năo posso lę-lo agora
laranjas arrancando nubian azul-pretas
năo esteja irritado com mim
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless
eu vi que o deus vocę a duvida?

 



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