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su pelo hermoso
a alguno los dioses gordos
el sol caminó abajo de su trono de oro
lo vi una vez antes
ésta es la canción de la juventud
como va un hombre desnudo yo
una tormenta está montando en la marea
ponemos
él incluso tendría su broma
quién ama la lluvia
no se aflija que encima
vea, de esta falsificación de él
he ganado la raza
cuando, lleno de amor caliente e impaciente

 



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