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■ A 8th Bienal do Douro sem limites
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2002-11-25 | [Este texto deve ser lido em romana] | Submetido por Mihaela Goga
The birds they sang at the break of day
Start again I heard them say Don’t dwell on what has passed away Or what is yet to be. The wars they will be fought again The holy dove be caught again Bought and sold and bought again The dove is never free. Ring the bell that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack in everything That’s how the light get in. We asked for signs the sings were sent The birth betrayed the marriage spent; The widowhood of every government Sings for all to see. Can’t run no more with that lawless crowd While the killers in high places Say their prayers out loud But they’ve summoned up a thundercloud They’re going to hear from me. You can add up the parts but you won’t have the sum You can strike up the march, there is no drum. Every heart to love will come but like a refugee.
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