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short funny poem

ochenta años han pasado, y más
hermoso
hijas del tiempo
si era muy seguro
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
arriba y abajo de él va
hay un país por completo del vino
el elevar, como el viento sopló
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
déme
behold yo, en mi chiffon, gasa y malla

 



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