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thank you poem

lá pela janela na casa velha
nunca em toda minha vida
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
quando eu estive escutar, discreetly dumb
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim
da canção e do sonho para ido sempre
talvez
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
no alvorecer, disse
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu

 



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