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sad love poem

debajo de la luna de la cosecha
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
suavemente llorando
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
levantado de los muertos
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
mejore que el granito
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?

 



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