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short poem

as montanhas são povos silenciosos
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
uma milha atrás
uma pena do aço
estes corações foram tecidos de alegrias e de cuidados humanos
renove a visão do prazer
eu ouvi-me que uma determinada princesa
têm você andar visto através da vila
para prestar atenção o dia inteiro à onda azul ondular e quebrar
da canção e do sonho para ido sempre

 



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