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religious poem

quando o vento trabalhar de encontro a nós na obscuridade
as sombras colocam ao longo de broadway
todo meu amor para meu doce
sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
ao lado de um campo stricken
o que mim lhe devem
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
no porto de york novo
agora quando meus bordos viverem
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina

 



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