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christian poem

porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
algum queixou-se ao mestre
eu soube o silêncio das estrelas e do mar
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
passado unrelenting do thou
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
como ela

 



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