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death poetry

f4-lo ouvem-se sempre de
disse
passado unrelenting do thou
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verćo brilhada
como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
a lua levantando-se escondeu as estrelas
quem estarį nomeando o vento

 



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