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father poem

uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
todo meu amor para meu doce
é ido
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
eu amei uma mulher
eu fiz um voto uma vez, um somente
como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes

 



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