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lost love poem

arched a inundação
gloom
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
eu não queimo nenhum incense
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
meu amor verdadeiro de seu descanso levantou-se
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
pela costa, pelo mar
veja, eles retornam
este é o navio da pérola
nunca em toda minha vida
uma palavra do vôo de aqui e lá

 



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