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narrative poetry

quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
a festa real foi feita
melancolia, azul era
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
apenas agora
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
qual eu desejo observar
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres

 



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