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fall poetry

na meia-noite
é ido
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coraçăo da pedra
uma vez este turf macio
quando vocę vier hoje ŕ noite
macia weeping
as sombras dos navios
se ele
embora repine do amor, e chafe da razăo
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma măo
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
a noite era preta e drear
a agonia de ter demasiado poder

 



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