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pastor appreciation poem

poca puerta fue alcanzada en el último
ella dijo
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
serene de la tarde y brillante verdes
las naves están mintiendo en la bahía
tenían él e i pero satisfecho
solitario y solitario
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
no ruego para la paz
como águilas en colmo ascendente
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves

 



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