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lost love poem

miré sobre el cielo glorioso
cuál era él los motores dichos
caído tan
tristes son que saben no amor
por las mañanas nube-grises
la hija, arte del thou viene morir
mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
ésta es la canción de la juventud
truely
lo vi una vez antes
todos se callan a lo largo del potomac
el niño que lanzó lejos la hoja después de la hoja

 



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