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narrative poetry

plantemos
de largo hace, en el claro de luna joven
musing, entre la puesta del sol y la obscuridad
y pan del breaketh no más
por completo de rasgones
estoy parado en el tiempo gris frío
con los ojos mansos, marrones
cuando era adaptó Londres
estoy viejo y oculto
si muero, piense solamente esto en mí
oí el viento todo el dia
tengo que decir buonas noches

 



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