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marriage poem

não pendure nenhuma grinalda
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
uma tempestade está montando na maré
a fragrância veio
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
seu cabelo bonito
as sombras colocam ao longo de broadway
o alvorecer era verde maçã
minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous

 



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