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sad death poem

fala năo bem
acima de e para baixo vai
travails da terra
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
eu ouvi o vento o dia inteiro
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhă
olhar além
o mestre de destinies humanos é mim
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
năo pendure nenhuma grinalda
a escuridăo
eu năo posso sempre sentir seu greatness

 



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