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sorry poem

o que nós fará agora
o doce com fern e levantou-se
eu moldei o mundo
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
no porto de york novo
ame-me no último, ou se você não
não esteja irritado com mim
esta é a canção da juventude
esteja em mim como os modos eternal
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred

 



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