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death poetry

e nse
alguns dias mais ventosos
olhe para fora em cima das estrelas, meu amor
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
eu sou o vento que wavers
embora repine do amor, e chafe da razăo
ao longo de um river-side
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
duas fileiras dos repolhos

 



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