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teen poem

uma tempestade está montando na maré
eu estou cantando-lhe
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
eu ganhei a raça
muito bem, você liberais
deixe-me mover-se lentamente através da rua
em e sobre

 



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