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son poem

f4-lo ouvem-se sempre de
os céus que eram ashen e sober
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta
veja, eles retornam
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim
macia weeping
era muitas e muito um ano há
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
năo há nenhum escape pelo rio
nobility da morte outra vez
encontra-se aqui uma senhora a mais bonita
veja o tentative

 



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