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fall poetry

el banquete real fue hecho
vea, de esta falsificación de él
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
estoy parado en el tiempo gris frío
sea paciente, vida, cuando el amor está en la puerta
en septiembre
y con el pájaro del tarareo
la mujer faltó mucho, cómo usted llama a mí, llamada a mí

 



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