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christmas poem

uma tempestade está montando na maré
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
para a verdade, para o amor
era năo para esse cheiro singular
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
em seu vôo
as sombras dos navios
com alegria e maravilha
vindo para baixo no alvorecer dos montes windless
estrela-poeira e luz vaporosa
eu sei năo onde
vocę está desobstruído

 



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