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fall poetry

eu ouvi o vento o dia inteiro
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
ainda treze anos
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
eu vi-o uma vez antes
as canções velhas
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
no recolhimento da escuridão e pedem
abaixo do helm do guerreiro

 



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