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sympathy poem

raça elevado-carregada
deixe um sustento da alegria você
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
veio fazer exame de me pela mão
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte

 



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