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grandma poem

mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
tempestade
há três maneiras em que os homens fazem exame
o merriment infinito, foolish das estrelas
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
em e sobre
na terra silenciosa
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
como uma vela branca
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
a noite era preta e drear
e nse

 



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