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thank you poem

a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
ao lado de um campo stricken
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
o dia é feito
as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
escute
gloom
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
por muito tempo há, no moonlight novo
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer

 



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