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halloween poetry

debajo de mi ventana en una calle de la ciudad
de'bil-se va volando la canción
la hija, arte del thou viene morir
vea, de esta falsificación de él
trenzado y tejido
a lo largo de una orilla
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
he visto las estrellas más orgullosas
debajo de la luna de la cosecha
cuando era un muchacho en la universidad
le hizo oyen hablar siempre
gloom

 



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