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pumpkin poem

materia de la luna
buena mujer
no éramos muchos
encima de los prados ricos con maíz
splendor dulce
una tormenta está montando en la marea
soporte aquí por mi lado
he venido en el desierto porque mi alma es athirst
mundo que cambia bajo mi mano
en la medianoche
no sea falso
cuando libertad de su altura de la montaña
oscuro-eyed

 



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