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romantic poetry

cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
soy una mujer
hago mi cubierta, pero nadie sabe
vea, ellos vuelven
hay un país por completo del vino
raza alto-llevada
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
vi la primera pera
usted recuerda
en el amanecer, él dijo

 



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