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retirement poem

estes corações foram tecidos de alegrias e de cuidados humanos
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
rosas e ouro
vinho velho a beber
se ele
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
os céus que eram ashen e sober
a noite era preta e drear
não seja falso
f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré

 



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