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friend poem

o ar é como uma borboleta
onde deva mim encontre-o
as sombras dos navios
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
eu resido na montanha da tabela
deve ir para trás, disse
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
eu tenho que dizer good-night
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu

 



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