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poem for pastors

un pensamiento dulce solemne
placeres mediados de y palacios aunque podemos vagar
el cielo
he echado el mundo
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades
nobleza de la muerte otra vez
por lo tanto no puedo
el sol está para arriba
amo mi hora del viento y de la luz
su cara es justa y lisa y fina
todos esos tesoros que mienten
a qué una mujer la comparará querida


 



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