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poetry poem

estes sejam
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
eu ganhei a raça
eu fui acima e trago as ruas
nunca em toda minha vida
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
algum queixou-se ao mestre
mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
a terra mantem algum ir da vibração
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer

 



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