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death poem

eu năo pray para a paz
era muitas e muito um ano há
acima dos prados ricos com milho
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verăo brilhada
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
quando eu era um menino na faculdade
os prayers brancos pequenos
entre as montanhas eu vagueei

 



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