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lyric poem

embora repine do amor, e chafe da razão
uma tempestade está montando na maré
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
qual se mantem
as estrelas caíram do heaven
do assoalho ao teto

 



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