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baby poem

um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
a festa real foi feita
qual eu desejo observar
sadly falando
eu nĂŁo posso sempre sentir seu greatness
os poetas dizem
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
havia um strangeness em seus bordos
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
todos aqueles tesouros que se encontram
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
mil anos silenciosos há
eu tive um medo em minha vida

 



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