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sympathy poem

ruédeme abajo por el prado
dondeyo encuéntrele
¡bajo!' tis a la noche de la gala
caras hermosas, tragical
he venido en el desierto porque mi alma es athirst
vea el tentativo
los pasillos de mármol resounding largos
éstos sean
nuestros momentos agradables vuelan
con su pelo flaying violentamente
la oscuridad rueda hacia arriba
disparando para arriba, cayendo abajo


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