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sister poem

una pluma del acero
el prado se arrastraba
fuera del profundo y de la obscuridad
usted recuerda
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
se hace el día
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
dije, yo he cerrado mi corazón
y pan del breaketh no más

 



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