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father poem

el sol caminó abajo de su trono de oro
usted está claro
un cielo que nunca ha sabido el sol, la luna o las estrellas
ahora mientras que están viviendo mis labios
mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
cuando miraba en sus ojos
éste es el arsenal
ese año
el elevar, como el viento sopló
esos ojos negros i elogiado una vez tan
tengo gusto de ella
musing, entre la puesta del sol y la obscuridad
estoy parado en el tiempo gris frío

 



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