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gothic poetry

os céus que eram ashen e sober
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
uma milha atrás
e ainda andaram sobre
eu fui acima e trago as ruas
quando liberdade de sua altura da montanha
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
para poder ver cada lado de cada pergunta
quem estará nomeando o vento
alguns dias mais ventosos
sol e vento e batida do mar
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
lá pela janela na casa velha
eu v todas as sagacidades humanas

 



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