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lyric poem

cuando libertad de su altura de la montaña
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
me pregunto donde usted vive
para mí era concejal gaunt, grave
la nieve susurra sobre mí
contra la llama verde del espino-a'rbol
con la puesta del sol
de la canción y del sueño para ido siempre
he ganado la raza

 



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