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um pĂŞssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
as sombras colocam ao longo de broadway
esse ano
o que nós fará agora
material da lua
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
vocĂŞ diz que vocĂŞ me ama
Ă© verdadeiro que vocĂŞ diz que os deuses lhe sĂŁo mais uso do que fairies
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
eu penso d esplĂŞndido justo
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
diga-me

 



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