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love poetry

no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
tenemos ninguna vergüenza?
un pequeño melocotón en la huerta creció
era muchas y mucho hace un año
los arcos del puente rojo
y mi nombre es veraz
hace usted no oír
vea, de esta falsificación de él
el dulce con el fern y se levantó
mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
ochenta años han pasado, y más

 



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