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romantic poetry

sueńo dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
él vino tomarme por la mano
contra la llama verde del espino-a'rbol
cuando el viento trabaja contra nosotros en la obscuridad
flor blanca de la espuma, flor roja de la llama
vivido por la orilla
repentinamente, fuera de maneras oscuras y frondosas
por el puente grosero

 



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