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dark poetry

sob a folha dusky do laurel
perguntam-me onde eu estive
ao lado de um campo stricken
estourou o vinho feroz
composto do loveliness sozinho
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
gaily através dos campos nós dançamos
cidade que não é uma cidade
bonito
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies


 



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