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poem for pastors

por la orilla, por el mar
todos tragan los años
el sol caminó abajo de su trono de oro
escuche el mar del sonido
no hay escape al lado del río
voy mi manera complacently
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
el aire es lleno de amanecer y de resorte
encima del sur en la rotura del día
en sus regimentals desiguales
era un oysterman joven alto

 



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