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sad death poem

pouca porta foi alcançada no último
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies
esse ano
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio
simplesmente falando
duas fileiras dos repolhos
nós não éramos muitos
quando você vier hoje à noite
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
havia um strangeness em seus bordos
uma palavra do vôo de aqui e lá
era muitas e muito um ano há

 



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