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religious poem

hace tres años hoy
cuando era adaptó Londres
el sol caminó abajo de su trono de oro
no me quemo ningún incienso
suavemente llorando
uno con usted
debajo del timón del guerrero
hasta su ventana del compartimiento
como águilas en colmo ascendente
usted está claro
fuera de la ventana un mar de árboles verdes
el dulce con el fern y se levantó
nunca había un sonido al lado de la madera pero de una

 



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