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thanksgiving poetry

a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
para vestir o pensamento impetuoso
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
a noite era preta e drear
para a verdade, para o amor
na terra silenciosa
apenas agora
ido antes de nós
há um país completamente do vinho
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
veja o tentative
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas

 



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