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sorry poem

el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
estoy en amor con los altos lugares far-seeing
vivido por la orilla
los drowses pálidos del día en el occidental empapan
camino abajo de las trayectorias del jardín
algunos de los daños que usted ha curado
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
y va tan
todavía recuerdo sin duda alguna
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves

 



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