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child poetry

a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
porque săo as coisas que năo tęm nenhuma morte
o relâmpago piscou, e levantou
năo do mundo largo do todo
eu ouvi o vento o dia inteiro
eu sei năo onde
receoso năo mais, eu digo
todo meu amor para meu doce
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte

 



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