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free love poem

há uma hora do descanso calmo
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
uma milha atrás
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
levantado dos mortos
eu estou cantando-lhe
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
como deva mim ajude ŕ direita ao mundo que está indo erradamente
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
nos salőes do sono vocę vagueou perto
um com vocę

 



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