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kid poem

o prado estava rastejando
em seu vôo
os poetas dizem
por muito tempo há, no moonlight novo
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
mas alas, sonhos justos
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
em números mournful
o merriment infinito, foolish das estrelas
eu despise meus amigos mais do que você
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
dê-me

 



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