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funeral poem

o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
eu moldei o mundo
cara esposa
uma vez este turf macio
quando liberdade de sua altura da montanha
esta é a canção da juventude
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
como nivelar cai
material da lua
é frequentemente não assim?
pensamentos através de minha cabeça

 



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