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sadly falando
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
acima dos prados ricos com milho
não permaneça não mais
em seus regimentals ásperos
vinho velho a beber
no recolhimento da escuridão e pedem
deixe-nos piedade aqueles de que seja melhor fora do que nós são
não seja falso
ruídos que strive rasgar
eu sei o que você está indo dizer
agite


 



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