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family poem

glooms de los vivir-robles
poco parque que paso a través
una niebla conducĂ­a abajo
ochenta años han pasado, y más
mi alma es un campo arado oscuro
cuando era adaptĂł Londres
arrojé mi alma al aire como un vuelo del halcón
soporte aquĂ­ por mi lado
el prado se arrastraba
hace tres años hoy
pero no puedo ahora leerle
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness

 



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