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short poem

as montanhas são povos silenciosos
esse ano
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
este é o arsenal
seu cabelo bonito
olhe para trás com olhos longing e saiba que eu seguirei
de nossos lugares escondidos
a o que uma mulher a comparará beloved
rosas e ouro
não esteja irritado com mim
teria mesmo seu gracejo
deixe-me ser sad
homem frio stern

 



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