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retirement poem

até sua janela da câmara
qual eu desejo observar
era uma beleza nos dias
como águias na elevação ascendente
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
agite
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
uma vez este turf macio
receoso não mais, eu digo
caras bonitas, tragical
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma

 



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