21
Tel hunched rowers Alexander
You brought - who laughed in an iris hat
Tremble a new abduction ... I see ... far of Paris ...
The Athenian poet have you weighed the ashes?
22
With the air of a dream appeared yet
What do you want, ghost, at the corner of the street?
23
Soldier was a golden footsteps. A servant
Put his pitcher in the shade, we saw jump
Two chulos followed - and all that dancing ...
O Madrid, this is not something we invented!
24
With your eyes too big, the abyss outputs
O None of the girls, the night swallowed ...
25
The nephew of a hero trafficked from its ashes
With a prince that since we married.
And I do not know why everyone cried
"What are the ancestors, if not down?"
26
Women wearily, one night met ...
Women in the mysterious Void receipts ...
27
In memory of Don Quixote,
Excuse the stuttering
In a muse, alas, a little manchote.
28
Orthez, a poet adorns the flowing beard,
The Huguenots were stained with blood thy mourning widow.
29
I give you these verses ... But you know the rest:
Baudelaire said the days of your grandfather.
I did the sea, China, elsewhere ... And more rustic,
One of them has my heart sprang like a gladiolus.
30
You take, do, one day you scratched the heart,
Dreams of love for your wishes.
Tel hunched rowers Alexander
You brought - who laughed in an iris hat
Tremble a new abduction ... I see ... far of Paris ...
The Athenian poet have you weighed the ashes?
22
With the air of a dream appeared yet
What do you want, ghost, at the corner of the street?
23
Soldier was a golden footsteps. A servant
Put his pitcher in the shade, we saw jump
Two chulos followed - and all that dancing ...
O Madrid, this is not something we invented!
24
With your eyes too big, the abyss outputs
O None of the girls, the night swallowed ...
25
The nephew of a hero trafficked from its ashes
With a prince that since we married.
And I do not know why everyone cried
"What are the ancestors, if not down?"
26
Women wearily, one night met ...
Women in the mysterious Void receipts ...
27
In memory of Don Quixote,
Excuse the stuttering
In a muse, alas, a little manchote.
28
Orthez, a poet adorns the flowing beard,
The Huguenots were stained with blood thy mourning widow.
29
I give you these verses ... But you know the rest:
Baudelaire said the days of your grandfather.
I did the sea, China, elsewhere ... And more rustic,
One of them has my heart sprang like a gladiolus.
30
You take, do, one day you scratched the heart,
Dreams of love for your wishes.
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