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short love poem

hay aumentos para todas nuestras pérdidas
había tres en el prado al lado del arroyo
el amanecer era verde
con los ojos mansos, marrones
como vela blanca
quién nombrará el viento
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
tan perdido
ésta es la nave de la perla

 



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