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gothic poetry

teria mesmo seu gracejo
eu ganhei a raça
flores dos bebês
eu vi as nuvens entre os montes
eu não posso dizê-lo agora
deve ir para trás, disse
seu cabelo bonito
sobre o rio, no monte
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
o que nós fará agora
um pássaro cantou

 



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