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sad poem

eu nunca soube que a terra teve assim muito ouro
os arcos da ponte vermelha
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
melancolia, azul era
uma palavra do vôo de aqui e lá
a o que uma mulher a comparará beloved
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
o doce com fern e levantou-se

 



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