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teacher poem

nós não éramos muitos
veio fazer exame de me pela mão
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
eu amo minha vida, mas não demasiado bem
e como poderia você sonho da reunião
receoso não mais, eu digo
era uma oysterman novo alto
calma como que segundo verão

 



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