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até sua janela da câmara
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
e pão do breaketh mais
através do peito aching da terra larga
a neve sussurra sobre mim
em todas as coisas não faladas de
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
eu ouvi-me que uma determinada princesa
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio

 



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