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a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
receoso não mais, eu digo
caras bonitas, tragical
a algum os deuses gordos
todos quiet ao longo do potomac
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
macio como a cama na terra
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
como ela

 



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