Rosas rara se alçavam puras. Eu sonho que vivi sempre exaltado. Amo os danos do mundo, quero a chama Do mundo, vós, paixões do mundo. E penso: Estrangeiro não sou, pertenço à terra. Um céu abriu as mãos sobre o meu rosto. Barcos de prata cantam vagamente. Pensando, desço então pelas veredas Do mar, do … Ler mais
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