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autumn poetry

de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
olhe para trás com olhos longing e saiba que eu seguirei
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
no alvorecer, disse
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
o amor foi cantado mil maneiras
há três maneiras em que os homens fazem exame
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado

 



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