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free love poetry

porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
embora repine do amor, e chafe da razão
escuro-eyed
são você acordado?
era muitas e muito um ano há
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
sobre o rio beckon a mim
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
traga-me a canção macia

 



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