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sad love poem

é ido
eighty anos passaram, e mais
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
você é bonito e desvanecido
raça elevado-carregada
através do peito aching da terra larga
eu sei o que você está indo dizer
do sol nem das estrelas
diga-me
como águias na elevação ascendente
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
quem estará nomeando o vento

 



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