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contemporary poetry

su cara es justa y lisa y fina
splendor dulce
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
mejore que el granito
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
vi las nubes entre las colinas
fuera del profundo y de la obscuridad
la lluvia encima, y el aire brillante
la hija, arte del thou viene morir
para venir tan pronto a esto imaginaba obscuridad

 



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