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lyric poetry

como águilas en colmo ascendente
estaba parado
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
el sol está para arriba
musing, entre la puesta del sol y la obscuridad
debajo de la luna de la cosecha
en números mournful
gloom
déjeme moverse lentamente a través de la calle

 



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