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epic poetry

glooms de los vivir-robles
encima de los prados ricos con maíz
sobre el río hacen señas a mí
mi dolor, cuando ella está aquí con mí
compuesto de loveliness solamente
la luna de levantamiento ha ocultado las estrellas
la pienso espléndido justo
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
no me quemo ningún incienso
el rodillo triste del tambor amortiguado tiene golpe

 



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