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sympathy poem

había un strangeness en sus labios
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
era muchas y mucho hace un año
cuál era él los motores dichos
melancolía, azul era
mundo que cambia bajo mi mano
una vez este césped suave
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
resido en la montaña de la tabla
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio

 



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