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sad poem

melancolia, azul era
a criança que jogou afastado a folha após a folha
eu fui acima e trago as ruas
eu soube o silęncio das estrelas e do mar
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
vocę diz que vocę me ama
há tręs maneiras em que os homens fazem exame
caras bonitas, tragical
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
eu vi que vocę hunched e tiritando nas pedras
filhas do tempo
acima dos prados ricos com milho

 



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