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sorry poem

el sol caminó abajo de su trono de oro
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte
raza alto-llevada
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche
no permanezca no más
todos se callan a lo largo del potomac
con alegría y maravilla
una niebla conducía abajo
el olor del se levantó tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
suavemente llorando

 



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