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sad poem

poderíamos nós mas para saber
ido antes de nós
ao amante passionate
truely
sad são que sabem não o amor
em números mournful
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
passado unrelenting do thou
nobility da morte outra vez
o ar é como uma borboleta
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina

 



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