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love poem

si muero, piense solamente esto en mí
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
y todavía caminaron encendido
ese año
hace usted oír
éste es el arsenal
encima de los prados ricos con maíz
rompemos el cristal que vino sagrado
él incluso tendría su broma
para la verdad, para el amor
éstos sean
las sombras ponen a lo largo de broadway

 



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