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christmas poem

eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
macio como a cama na terra
as canções velhas
têm você ouvido
sob a lua da colheita
são você acordado?
na terra silenciosa
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
eu vou minha maneira complacently
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
eu penso d esplêndido justo

 



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