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child poetry

quando eu era quebrou em Londres
as sombras dos navios
glass-blower do tempo
temos nós nenhum shame?
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
eu amo as configurações melodious velhas
na meia-noite
completamente dos rasgos
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
conseqüentemente eu não posso
deixe-me ser sad
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore

 



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