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autumn poetry

ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
o que mim lhe devem
podem falar do amor em uma casa de campo
vinho velho a beber
a algum os deuses gordos
a luz retirada
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
como deva mim ajude à direita ao mundo que está indo erradamente
caras bonitas, tragical
conseqüentemente eu não posso
três anos há hoje

 



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