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autumn poetry

no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
contra la llama verde del espino-a'rbol
un pequeño melocotón en la huerta creció
dentro de mi mano sostengo
expresemos nuestras pasiones más bajas
claro de luna profundo y blando
camino abajo de las trayectorias del jardĂ­n
si el asesino rojo piensa él mata

 



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