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thanksgiving poetry

é ido
mas alas, sonhos justos
eu v todas as sagacidades humanas
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
eu despise meus amigos mais do que você
eu estou morrendo
deixe-nos piedade aqueles de que seja melhor fora do que nós são
o sol está acima
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza

 



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