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erotic poem

los pequeños rezos blancos
hace usted no oír
la medianoche pasada
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
raza alto-llevada
era el otoño del año
usted es hermoso y descolorado
hijas del tiempo
hay cualquiera allí
veo todos los ingenios humanos
y con el pájaro del tarareo
sol y viento y golpe del mar
simplicidad
hay tres maneras de las cuales los hombres toman

 



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