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poem for pastors

são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
era o outono do ano
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
eu penso d esplêndido justo
tiveram e i mas encontrado com
travails da terra
eu quero saber onde você vive
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
moonlight profundo e macio
ao amante passionate

 



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