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son poem

veja, desta moeda falsa dele
e nse
porque assim sad meu encantador?
minha măe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
do sol nem das estrelas
quando eu era quebrou em Londres
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
mas alas, sonhos justos
eu vi a primeira pera
nós que estiveram
o rolo sad do cilindro muffled tem a batida
e ainda andaram sobre

 



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