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mom poem

porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
eu vou minha maneira complacently
short e doce, e nós viemos à extremidade dela
fala não bem
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
macio como a cama na terra
quem estará nomeando o vento
não há nenhum escape pelo rio
eu não posso sempre sentir seu greatness
eu amo as configurações melodious velhas

 



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