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mom poem

no permanezca no más
el aire es como una mariposa
pueden hablar de amor en una cabańa
placeres mediados de y palacios aunque podemos vagar
trenzado y tejido
las viejas canciones
he tenido un miedo en mi vida
cuando voy de nuevo a la tierra
o justo y stately criada, que ojos
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
con los ojos mansos, marrones
antes del santo de bronce solemne

 



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