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funny poem

o ar é como uma borboleta
esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés
diga-me mais menos ou diga-me mais
nobility da morte outra vez
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
glass-blower do tempo
nós que estiveram
agora para uma luta viva e cheerful
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
veja, eles retornam
quem estará nomeando o vento
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro

 



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