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poem

a festa real foi feita
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
existir da cisne
eu tenho que dizer good-night
alguns dos hurts que você se curou
carrinho aqui por meu lado
embora repine do amor, e chafe da razão
agite
eu vi a primeira pera
em sua barraca guardada
eu sobre-tinha preparado o evento
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá

 



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