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sad poem

de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
como eu me encontro telhado dentro, selecionado dentro
uma milha atrás
eu fui acima e trago as ruas
travails da terra
quem estará nomeando o vento
embora repine do amor, e chafe da razão
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras

 



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