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christmas poetry

arched a inundação
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
nós que estiveram
os poetas dizem
traga-me a canção macia
ruídos que strive rasgar
sobre o rio beckon a mim
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
eu ouvi-me que uma determinada princesa
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado

 



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