.O hálito cansado de um corpo pálido
trava sua batalha contra a neblina fria.
Dentro de botas úmidas artelhos
corroem, a carne arde e são seis horas,
nove horas, três horas e tudo bem.
Mas, eu vi acenar para mim, o homem
na lua a bocejar. E sim, ele estava tão
feliz..
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