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love friendship poem

sueño, hermano gris de la muerte
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
las naves están mintiendo en la bahía
claro de luna profundo y blando
había tres en el prado al lado del arroyo
poca puerta fue alcanzada en el último
cántele otra vez a canción cantado
debajo de la luna de la cosecha


 



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