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romantic poetry

eu ofereci-os todo o farewell
a escurido
disse
sob a lua da colheita
eu sou o vento que wavers
melhore do que o granito
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
cado assim
tranado e tecido
a mulher faltou-me muito, como voc se chama me, chamada
em nmeros mournful
sobre o rio, no monte
pouco parque que eu passo completamente
mas alas, sonhos justos

 



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