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fall poetry

o oeste velho, o tempo velho
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
a escuridão
eu ofereci-os todo o farewell
as verdades terríveis estes sejam
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
felicidade
levantado dos mortos

 



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