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death poem

você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
o que mim lhe devem
a lua levantando-se escondeu as estrelas
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
macio como a cama na terra
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
eu sou fevered
os dias melancólicos vieram
sabe uma liberação barata
rosas e ouro

 



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