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poetry poem

rosas e ouro
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
material da lua
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
lá pela janela na casa velha
todos quiet ao longo do potomac
eu amo roubar por algum tempo afastado
era uma beleza nos dias
dentro de minha mĂŁo eu prendo

 



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