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sister poem

mi dolor, cuando ella está aquí con mí
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
espléndido y terrible su amor
como vela blanca
la noche era negra y drear
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
en sus regimentals desiguales
arqueó la inundación
hice un voto una vez, uno solamente
pasado implacable del thou
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
como ella

 



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