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sad poetry

o justo y stately criada, que ojos
aunque soy poco como todas las pequeńas cosas
aquí cae ninguna luz
escuche el mar del sonido
cuando era un muchacho en la universidad
serene de la tarde y brillante verdes
usted es hermoso y descolorado
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
para venir tan pronto a esto imaginaba obscuridad
vi con los ojos abiertos
venido abajo en el amanecer de las colinas windless

 



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