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sad poem

de'bil-se va volando la canción
sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
el sentarse en su eje de balancín que espera su té
el banquete real fue hecho
fuera de la ventana un mar de árboles verdes
deje el unsaid encantador de las palabras
quién nombrará el viento
placeres mediados de y palacios aunque podemos vagar
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
solitario y solitario

 



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