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short love poem

este é o navio da pérola
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
eu moldei o mundo
as canções velhas
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
quando eu era quebrou em Londres
diga-me
era uma beleza nos dias
eu sou velho e cego
as montanhas são povos silenciosos
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem

 



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