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birthday poetry

melancolĂ­a, azul era
cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
felicidad
el banquete real fue hecho
tormenta
el prado se arrastraba
fui arriba y abajo de las calles
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
gaily a través de los campos bailamos
ésos en el superior dicen que le conocen, tierra -- son mentirosos

 



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