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erotic poem

a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
lá pela janela na casa velha
eu prendo seu coração
fala não bem
o ar é como uma borboleta
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
estourou o vinho feroz
diz de épocas velhas boas
deixe-nos piedade aqueles de que seja melhor fora do que nós são
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso

 



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