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type of poetry

e pão do breaketh mais
esse ano
sad são que sabem não o amor
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
eu vim no deserto porque minha alma é athirst
eu não pray para a paz
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies
a criança que jogou afastado a folha após a folha

 



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