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haiku poem

receoso não mais, eu digo
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
os prayers brancos pequenos
as canções antigas
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
fraco-é voada a canção
a escuridão
uplifting, como o vento fundiu
em números mournful

 



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