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teen poem

a noite era preta e drear
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
eu amo roubar por algum tempo afastado
envolva a terra no tempo cloudy
como ele de quem espírito na chama do meio-dia
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
é ido
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
as montanhas são povos silenciosos

 



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