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kid poem

nunca sabía que la tierra tenía tanto oro
tristes son que saben no amor
como baja el igualar
debajo del timón del guerrero
cuando el viento trabaja contra nosotros en la obscuridad
burly, humilde-abeja el dormitar
tristemente hablando
ella tiene un claro, loveliness viento-abrigado
le estoy cantando
ochenta años han pasado, y más
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril

 



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