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short poem

uma tempestade está montando na maré
temos nós nenhum shame?
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
você diz que você me ama
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
em uma câmara velha iluminou-se macia
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala

 



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