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romantic poetry

no porto de york novo
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim
talvez năo é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
glass-blower do tempo
vindo para baixo no alvorecer dos montes windless
em possa
simplicity
meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
eu năo queimo nenhum incense
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
um pensamento doce solemn
se ele

 



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