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sob a lua da colheita
homem frio stern
os céus que eram ashen e sober
quem estará nomeando o vento
caras bonitas, tragical
travails da terra
teria mesmo seu gracejo
nĂŁo esteja irritado com mim
uma palavra do vôo de aqui e lá
as montanhas sĂŁo povos silenciosos
com alegria e maravilha
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
truely
ainda treze anos

 



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