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sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
lo vi una vez antes
no puedo ahora decirle
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
en el puerto de York nueva
el amanecer era verde
ahora mientras que están viviendo mis labios
dos filas de coles
no éramos muchos
cuál deseo comentar
el amo de destinos humanos es yo
era no para ese olor singular
caído tan
nuestros momentos agradables vuelan

 



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