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family poetry

em números mournful
olhe para fora em cima das estrelas, meu amor
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
e ainda andaram sobre
escuro-eyed
para prestar atenção o dia inteiro à onda azul ondular e quebrar
macio como a cama na terra
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
o sol está acima
deixe-nos plantar
nós não éramos muitos
há um país completamente do vinho

 



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