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type of poem

estoy parado en el tiempo gris frío
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
el movimiento de su cuerpo es como música
dije
en sus brazos estaba el placer inmóvil
ayer por la noche la Luna Llena puso un paño del blanco
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
he tenido un miedo en mi vida
para la verdad, para el amor
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
con alegría y maravilla

 



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