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baby poem

vindo para baixo no alvorecer dos montes windless
eu não posso sempre sentir seu greatness
mas alas, sonhos justos
diga-me mais menos ou diga-me mais
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
doubtless eu recordo ainda
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
assim perdido
e com o pássaro humming
como ele de quem espírito na chama do meio-dia
pouca porta foi alcançada no último

 



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