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happy birthday poem

a agonia de ter demasiado poder
eu espero-o
este é o arsenal
do sol nem das estrelas
vinho velho a beber
como ela
todos quiet ao longo do potomac
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
quem estará nomeando o vento
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
moonlight profundo e macio
desolado e solitário
quando eu era um menino na faculdade

 



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