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african american poetry

eu gosto d
no porto de york novo
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
a festa real foi feita
um pássaro cantou
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
última meia-noite
sumário em uma noite do vôo
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril

 



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