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mother poem

mundo que muda sob minha mão
os dias endeared a cada MUSE
através do peito aching da terra larga
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
não gire sua cabeça
lá pela janela na casa velha
a algum os deuses gordos
eu amei uma mulher
são você acordado?

 



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