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religious poem

le estoy cantando
el dulce con el fern y se levantó
splendor dulce
pero alas, sueños justos
vea, ellos vuelven
él incluso tendría su broma
no me quemo ningún incienso
el elevar, como el viento sopló
dice de buenas viejas épocas
glooms de los vivir-robles
fuera de la ventana un mar de árboles verdes
la luz retirada

 



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