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lyric poem

como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
antes do saint de bronze solemn
vinho velho a beber
seu cabelo bonito
se ele
melhore do que o granito
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
algum queixou-se ao mestre
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
o sol está acima

 



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