.Na velha mansão ao poente
Mulheres de olhos esvaÃdos
Quietas, abandonam-se ao vento,
Claustros na luz esquecidos.
Como um anjo a chorar>O sangrar de rosa fulvas,
Ronda a noite o dolente arfar>Da beleza das viúvas.
Desmaia, irmã, desmaia.
Desmaia, irmã, desmaia.
.
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