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wedding poetry

para entonces fuera
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
los pasillos de mármol resounding largos
con su pelo flaying violentamente
llevo a cabo su corazón
splendor dulce
en la tierra silenciosa
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
por el puente grosero
soy fevered

 



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