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lost love poem

cidade que não é uma cidade
pouco parque que eu passo completamente
balançado no berço do profundo
os arcos da ponte vermelha
não permaneça não mais
este é o arsenal
com os olhos meek, marrons
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado
a lua levantando-se escondeu as estrelas
há uma hora do descanso calmo
macio como a cama na terra
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
tiveram e i mas encontrado com

 



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