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thanksgiving poem

sobre o rio beckon a mim
você é bonito e desvanecido
calma como que segundo verão
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcão
é ido
na terra silenciosa
e ainda andaram sobre
ainda treze anos
eu vi as estrelas as mais orgulhosas
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
deve ir para trás, disse

 



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