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son poem

o sol está acima
um por um, como sae de uma árvore
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
tudo dentro e tudo sem mim
traga-me a canção macia
mas alas, sonhos justos
temos nós nenhum shame?
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
glooms dos viv-carvalhos
amigo, cujo o sorriso veio ser
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro

 



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