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funeral poem

as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
conseqüentemente eu não posso
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
três dias eu ouvi-os afligir-se quando eu coloco absolutamente
quem estará nomeando o vento
onde deva mim encontre-o
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
através do peito aching da terra larga

 



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