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sad poetry

una niebla conducía abajo
si él
trenzado y tejido
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
él incluso tendría su broma
hay aumentos para todas nuestras pérdidas
tráigame la canción suave
tormenta
ésos en el superior dicen que le conocen, tierra -- son mentirosos
tan perdido
behold yo, en mi chiffon, gasa y malla
solitario y solitario
encima de los prados ricos con maíz

 



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