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lost love poem

travails de la tierra
ruidos que se esfuerzan rasgarse
he ganado la raza
calma como que segundo verano
simplemente hablando
muy bien, usted liberales
en septiembre
sombras coas alas que barren cerca
mundo que cambia bajo mi mano
gloom
poca puerta fue alcanzada en el último
usted recuerda
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
el prado se arrastraba

 



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