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thanksgiving poem

há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
este é o arsenal
quando você vier hoje à noite
esta é a canção da juventude
os dias hypocritic
um pássaro cantou
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
era o outono do ano
amigo, cujo o sorriso veio ser
diz de épocas velhas boas
eu tenho que dizer good-night
vinho velho a beber
última meia-noite

 



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