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sorry poem

estoy parado en el tiempo gris frío
aflíjase no para el invisible
glooms de los vivir-robles
escuche
qué yo le deben
melancolía, azul era
me pregunto donde usted vive
encima del sur en la rotura del día
ella dijo
ella oyó a niños el jugar en el sol
a lo largo de una orilla
esposa querida
hay un país por completo del vino
con su pelo flaying violentamente

 



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