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sympathy poem

mi amor verdadero de su almohadilla se levantó
melancolía, azul era
¡bajo!' tis a la noche de la gala
las sombras de las naves
al lado de un campo afectado
las naves están mintiendo en la bahía
cuando un hecho se hace para la libertad
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
nunca en toda mi vida
quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
aquí miente una señora más hermosa
por el puente grosero


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