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poem for dad

e meu nome é truthful
gaily através dos campos nós dançamos
cidade que não é uma cidade
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
escute
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
pela ponte rude
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
para vestir o pensamento impetuoso
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
fora de mim unworthy e desconhecido

 



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