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break up poem

sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
quién nombrará el viento
mi amor verdadero de su almohadilla se levantó
el olor del se levantó tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
la señora, su corazón ha dado vuelta al polvo
el más triste del año
el prado se arrastraba
por la orilla, por el mar
cuál deseo comentar

 



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