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eu sei não onde
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
bonito
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
não se aflija que sobre
era não para esse cheiro singular
em números mournful
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes
sobre o rio, no monte
agora quando meus bordos viverem
sobre os rooftops compita as sombras das nuvens
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel

 



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