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funeral poem

eu quero saber às vezes se for realmente verdadeiro
cante-o outra vez à canção cantado
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
eu estou morrendo
eu tenho que dizer good-night
e como poderia você sonho da reunião
eliminar, esforçando-se vainly
o prado estava rastejando

 



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