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uma vez este turf macio
do assoalho ao teto
uma pena do aço
sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
bonito
era năo para esse cheiro singular
porque assim sad meu encantador?
eu ouvi-me que uma determinada princesa
a escuridăo rola para cima
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
năo permaneça năo mais
eu năo posso dizę-lo agora

 



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