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good bye poem

o ar é como uma borboleta
esplêndido e terrível seu amor
levantado dos mortos
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
eu disse
todos aqueles tesouros que se encontram
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
última meia-noite

 



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