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christmas poetry

o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
macia agora a luz do dia
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
o prado estava rastejando
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
os corredores de mármore resounding longos
em números mournful
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
eu tenho que dizer good-night

 



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