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baby poem

com seu cabelo que flaying descontroladamente
quando eu retornei no por do sol
são você acordado?
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
levantado dos mortos
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
eu estou cantando-lhe
nunca em toda minha vida
eu estou no amor com lugares far-seeing elevados
babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar

 



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