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sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
paredes e enorme elevados
para então without
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
em uma câmara velha iluminou-se macia
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras

 



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