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lost love poem

la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
un destello del oro en gloom y gris
las naves están mintiendo en la bahía
venido abajo en el amanecer de las colinas windless
esté en mí como los humores eternos
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
veo todos los ingenios humanos

 



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