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vivido pelo river-side
nós não éramos muitos
eu verei uma estrela hoje à noite
jogaram uma pedra, você jogaram uma pedra
macia weeping
os arcos da ponte vermelha
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
eu não queimo nenhum incense
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingüeta
existir da cisne
sobre o rio, no monte

 



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