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poetry poem

había un strangeness en sus labios
tengo gusto de ella
¡bajo!' tis a la noche de la gala
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
si era muy seguro
soy fevered
cuando miraba en sus ojos
las canciones antiguas
vi las nubes entre las colinas
ésta es la nave de la perla
burly, humilde-abeja el dormitar

 



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