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thanksgiving poetry

quem estará nomeando o vento
eu tenho que dizer good-night
eu tive um sonho e eu acordei com ele
três anos há hoje
mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
como ela
eu penso d esplêndido justo

 



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