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good bye poem

sé no dónde
el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
aflíjase no para el invisible
el banquete real fue hecho
hago mi cubierta, pero nadie sabe
las verdades tremendas éstos sean
dulce y fuerte
hace usted no oír
materia de la luna
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
me preguntan donde he estado

 



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