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romantic poetry

um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
vinho velho a beber
uma tempestade está montando na maré
traga-me a canção macia
eu vi-o uma vez antes

 



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