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grandma poem

ido antes de nós
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
no porto de york novo
assim perdido
ao lado de um campo stricken
o céu
o relâmpago piscou, e levantou
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
vocę é bonito e desvanecido
perguntam-me onde eu estive

 



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