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sad poetry

sé lo que usted va a decir
ella oyó a niños el jugar en el sol
mire hacia fuera sobre las estrellas, mi amor
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
claro de luna profundo y blando
debajo de la luna de la cosecha
en el puerto de York nueva
las cortinas de la noche caían rápidamente
el existir del cisne

 



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