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sad death poem

deje el unsaid encantador de las palabras
hace mil años silenciosos
ochenta años han pasado, y más
cuando, lleno de amor caliente e impaciente
éste es el arsenal
¡bajo!' tis a la noche de la gala
como ella
la oscuridad
en sus brazos estaba el placer inmóvil
esposa querida
no sea falso
está a menudo no tan?
ruédeme abajo por el prado

 



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