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poem for pastors

los días hypocritic
amo las viejas endechas melodious
suavemente llorando
de'bil-se va volando la canción
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
debajo de la luna de la cosecha
todos se callan a lo largo del potomac
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
pueden hablar de amor en una cabaña
placeres mediados de y palacios aunque podemos vagar

 



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