En abril, en abril, mi un amor vino adelante, y funcion la cuesta de mi colina alta para seguir un hilo de rosca de la cancin.
Sus ojos eran duros como prfido con mirar en tierras crueles; Su voz fue a deslizarse sobre m como las manos de plata terribles.
Juntos pisamos el carril secreto y caminamos la ciudad de murmuracin. Us mi corazn como una mancha mojada, roja en el pecho de un vestido del terciopelo.
En abril, en abril, mi amor fue a silbar cerca, y tropec aqu a mi colina alta a lo largo de la manera de una mentira.
Ahora qu debo hacer en este lugar sino sentar y contar los carillones, y salpico la agua fra en mi cara y estropeo una pgina con rimas?
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