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love poem

algún se quejó al amo
un pensamiento dulce solemne
materia de la luna
cuando las horas del día se numeran
vi que el dios usted la duda?
uno con usted
era el otoño del año
hijas del tiempo
amigo, que sonrisa ha venido ser
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
los pequeños rezos blancos
en números mournful

 



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