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retirement poem

mi alma es un campo arado oscuro
déjeme ser triste
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
dígame menos o dígame más
vi las nubes entre las colinas
dice de buenas viejas épocas
amé a mujer
nosotros que estaban parados
está a menudo no tan?
reservado, con reverance, en temor
quién es el corredor en los cielos


 



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