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frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
macio como a cama na terra
não gire sua cabeça
para então without
como ele de quem espírito na chama do meio-dia
eu vi que o deus você a duvida?
deixe-me ser sad
última meia-noite
quando liberdade de sua altura da montanha
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
em seu vôo
havia um momento em anos anteriores
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro

 



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