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spanish poem

talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
você diz que você me ama
as canções antigas
um por um, como sae de uma árvore
travails da terra
até sua janela da câmara
e assim vai
homem frio stern
tudo dentro e tudo sem mim
o sol está acima
passagem através das paredes huddled e feias
dê-me
ruídos que strive rasgar

 



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