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type of poetry

minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
não seja falso
o que nós fará agora
o que era ele os motores ditos
glooms dos viv-carvalhos
agite
ainda treze anos
eu sou fevered
eu verei uma estrela hoje à noite
os dias melancólicos vieram
mulher boa
quando uma ação for feita para a liberdade
de nossos lugares escondidos
porque então, a obrigação nós vê?

 



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