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baby poem

até sua janela da câmara
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
um pensamento doce solemn
era não para esse cheiro singular
agora que eu lhe esfriei
eu sou fevered
seu cabelo bonito
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
nobility da morte outra vez

 



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