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romantic love poem

déme
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
los poetas dicen
amo mi hora del viento y de la luz
he oído que cierta princesa
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
espléndido y terrible su amor
hace usted oír
paredes y enorme altos
en pueda
dígame menos o dígame más
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
felicidad

 



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