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grandma poem

no porto de york novo
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
eu ouvi o vento o dia inteiro
olhar além
a escuridão rola para cima
é frequentemente não assim?
completamente dos rasgos
qual eu desejo observar
um history muito notável isto é
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
o sol está acima
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
não se aflija que sobre
ao longo dos bancos

 



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