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poem for pastors

em seus regimentals ásperos
o mais saddest do ano
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
quando eu era quebrou em Londres
ame-me no último, ou se você não
ido antes de nós
na meia-noite
tempestade
deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas
carrinho aqui por meu lado
através do peito aching da terra larga
qual eu desejo observar
nós que estiveram

 



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