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dark poetry

a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingüeta
da canção e do sonho para ido sempre
olhe para fora em cima das estrelas, meu amor
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
havia um momento em anos anteriores
a o que uma mulher a comparará beloved
o movimento do seu corpo é como a música
última meia-noite
os céus que eram ashen e sober
dê-me a fome

 



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