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type of poetry

brilla la edad pasada, el siguiente con esperanza se ve
tormenta
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
cuando, lleno de amor caliente e impaciente
al lado de un campo afectado
sombras coas alas que barren cerca
ido antes de nosotros
poco parque que paso a través
antes del santo de bronce solemne
para poder ver cada lado de cada pregunta

 



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