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fall poetry

as montanhas são povos silenciosos
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim
eu vi com olhos abertos
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
se eu for muito certo
antes do saint de bronze solemn
tiveram e i mas encontrado com
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
são você vivo?
ao longo de um river-side
acima dos prados ricos com milho
veja o tentative

 



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