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sad death poem

prazeres mid e palácios embora nós podemos vaguear
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
uma pena do aço
levantado dos mortos
vinho velho a beber
não do mundo largo do todo
acima dos prados ricos com milho
e com o pássaro humming
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno

 



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