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autumn poetry

sé no dónde
cuál guarda
vea, de esta falsificación de él
sueño, hermano gris de la muerte
brilla la edad pasada, el siguiente con esperanza se ve
a qué una mujer la comparará querida
he venido en el desierto porque mi alma es athirst
tristes son que saben no amor
me preguntan donde he estado
le estoy cantando

 



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