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quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
lá pela janela na casa velha
a noite era preta e drear
mulher boa
havia um strangeness em seus bordos
da canção e do sonho para ido sempre
quando uma ação for feita para a liberdade
o Ăşnico punho clenched levantado e apronta-se
em seus regimentals ásperos
mas eu nĂŁo posso lĂŞ-lo agora
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave

 



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