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sister poem

meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
uma vez este turf macio
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
escuro-eyed
este é o navio da pérola
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras

 



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