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grandmother poem

melancolia, azul era
talvez
eu sou velho e cego
travails da terra
a música i ouvido com você era mais do que a música
eu vi-o uma vez antes
agora quando meus bordos viverem
não se aflija que sobre
eu não posso sempre sentir seu greatness
no recolhimento da escuridão e pedem

 



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