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sorry poem

eighty anos passaram, e mais
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
eu espero-o
três anos há hoje
nĂŁo pendure nenhuma grinalda
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
melancolia, azul era
veja o tentative
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
se ele
musing, entre o por do sol e a obscuridade

 



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