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sad poem

pôde tê-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada
as verdades terríveis estes sejam
têm você ouvido
vinho velho a beber
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
eu verei uma estrela hoje à noite
irmão, eu sou fogo
doubtless eu recordo ainda
seu cabelo bonito
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes

 



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