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lost love poem

quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
eu espero-o
macia agora a luz do dia
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
ame-me no último, ou se você não
era muitas e muito um ano há
sob a folha dusky do laurel
eu estou morrendo
há três maneiras em que os homens fazem exame
algum queixou-se ao mestre

 



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