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romantic poetry

de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
quando eu era quebrou em Londres
tempestade
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
última meia-noite
em seus regimentals ásperos
paredes e enorme elevados
eu estou morrendo
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
eu detestei-o
através do peito aching da terra larga
havia um strangeness em seus bordos

 



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