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christmas poetry

há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
pouco parque que eu passo completamente
a festa real foi feita
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
receoso não mais, eu digo
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
eliminar, esforçando-se vainly
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes

 



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