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poetry poem

travails da terra
o merriment infinito, foolish das estrelas
eu vi as nuvens entre os montes
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
vocĂŞ diz que vocĂŞ me ama
este Ă© o arsenal
a luz retirada
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
minha alma Ă© um campo ploughed escuro
a escuridão rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas

 



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