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inspirational poetry

poco parque que paso a través
y va tan
dulce y fuerte
debajo de mi ventana en una calle de la ciudad
el olor del se levantó tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
debajo del timón del guerrero
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
el sentarse en su eje de balancín que espera su té
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
qué ocasión spiteful roba unawares


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