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fui arriba y abajo de las calles
quién nombrará el viento
y como caminamos la hierba fue revuelta débilmente
para mí era concejal gaunt, grave
hay una hora del resto pacífico
el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
un pensamiento dulce solemne
envuelva la tierra en tiempo nublado
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves


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