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mother daughter poem

sob a lua da colheita
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
eu nunca soube que a terra teve assim muito ouro
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
teria mesmo seu gracejo
levantado dos mortos
faça exame de meus bracelets
agora quando meus bordos viverem
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
raça elevado-carregada
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
havia um momento em anos anteriores

 



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