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autumn poetry

babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar
felicidade
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
a algum os deuses gordos
eu detestei-o
diz de épocas velhas boas
para a verdade, para o amor
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
eu v todas as sagacidades humanas
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies
era o outono do ano

 



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