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Alda Saüde

I'm like a dance in postponed depths of the blood
like a poem puzzle

on me
the day begins with clandestine eyes
greater than the distance
and the clarity of the first hour brings streets, roads, hills and flatlands
horizons, fields and exotic trees without time

I am like a song of birds
and the wing is myself
delivering in each arrival
all magical borders that I can devise.

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