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christmas poem

una tormenta está montando en la marea
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
para la verdad, para el amor
era no para ese olor singular
en la obscuridad y la paz de mi cama final
fuera del profundo y de la obscuridad
en su vuelo
las sombras de las naves
con alegría y maravilla
venido abajo en el amanecer de las colinas windless
estrella-polvo y luz vaporosa
sé no dónde
usted está claro

 



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