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short poem

entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
eu ouvi-me que uma determinada princesa
passagem através das paredes huddled e feias
veio fazer exame de me pela mão
agora para uma luta viva e cheerful
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
eu não pray para a paz
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
se eu souber o narrow uma prisão é amor
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão

 



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