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african american poetry

os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
ido antes de nós
sad são que sabem não o amor
uplifting, como o vento fundiu
renove a visão do prazer
se ele
quem é o corredor nos céus
eu tenho que dizer good-night
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
muito bem, você liberais
gloom
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
diga-me

 



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