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flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
no recolhimento da escuridão e pedem
os corredores de mármore resounding longos
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
a escuridão
lá pela janela na casa velha
meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
a luz retirada
sobre o rio beckon a mim
no porto de york novo
na meia-noite

 



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