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urdu poetry

la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
he echado el mundo
el más triste del año
no del mundo ancho del conjunto
cuando era adaptĂł Londres
tiene usted el caminar visto a través de la aldea
aflĂ­jase no para el invisible
estaba parado
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
cortocircuito y dulce, y hemos venido al extremo de él
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves

 



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