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broken heart poem

estoy en amor con los altos lugares far-seeing
tome mis pulseras
hay una hora del resto pacífico
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
éstos sean
su cara es justa y lisa y fina
simplemente hablando
de nuestros lugares ocultados
glooms de los vivir-robles
a lo largo de una orilla
truely
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
no ruego para la paz

 



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