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child poem

eu ouvi o vento o dia inteiro
nós não éramos muitos
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
se ele
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
são você acordado?
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
eu tive um sonho e eu acordei com ele

 



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