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spanish poem

mi amor verdadero de su almohadilla se levantó
en la tierra silenciosa
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
una vez este césped suave
pensamientos a través de mi cabeza
escuche el mar del sonido
para poder ver cada lado de cada pregunta
ella debe ir detrás, ella dijo
¡bajo!' tis a la noche de la gala
mi dolor, cuando ella está aquí con mí

 



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