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a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
qual se mantem
dentro de minha măo eu prendo
melancolia, azul era
mundo que muda sob minha măo
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
balançado no berço do profundo
eu tenho que dizer good-night
se ele
na meia-noite
paredes e enorme elevados
ao lado de um campo stricken
acima dos prados ricos com milho

 



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