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friend poem

cuando las horas del día se numeran
su pelo hermoso
el eliminar, luchando vainly
ella puede ser que lo haya sabido en el resorte anterior
de piso al techo
no se aflija que encima
el amo de destinos humanos es yo
hago mi cubierta, pero nadie sabe
en pueda
en números mournful
usted oye la lluvia?
mundo que cambia bajo mi mano
las viejas canciones

 



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