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sad love poem

antes del santo de bronce solemne
no puedo ahora decirle
de largo hace, en el claro de luna joven
y va tan
simplemente hablando
el sol está para arriba
aquí miente una señora más hermosa
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
en alguna parte leí un cuento extraño, viejo, oxidado


 



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