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funeral poem

eu fui acima e trago as ruas
nobility da morte outra vez
escute
glass-blower do tempo
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
você diz que você me ama
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
os poetas dizem
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim

 



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