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sorry poem

usted oye la lluvia?
el amor se ha cantado mil maneras
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio
vea que me doy usted
contra la llama verde del espino-a'rbol
mire hacia fuera sobre las estrellas, mi amor
a alguno los dioses gordos
y va tan
un destello del oro en gloom y gris
déjenos compasión los de quienes sea mejor que nosotros son

 



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