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autumn poem

no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
hijas del tiempo
en números mournful
en un viejo compartimiento se encendió suavemente
para entonces fuera
pero alas, sueńos justos
aunque repine del amor, y rozadura de la razón
déjeme ser triste
sobre ellas todas, mirando abajo
las sombras de las naves

 



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