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autumn poem

flores dos bebês
caras bonitas, tragical
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
deixe um sustento da alegria você
não há nenhum rebanho, porém prestado atenção e tendido
o que mim lhe devem
eu vim no deserto porque minha alma é athirst
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
era uma oysterman novo alto
os prayers brancos pequenos
arched a inundação
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
eu ofereci-os todo o farewell

 



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