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sad poem

abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
tempestade
muito bem, vocĂŞ liberais
melancolia, azul era
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio
deixe-nos plantar
escute o mar soando
como nivelar cai

 



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