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no hay escape al lado del río
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
la oscuridad rueda hacia arriba
escuche el mar del sonido
cuando era adaptó Londres
ésta es la canción de la juventud
el banquete real fue hecho
pájaros contra el viento de abril
hasta su ventana del compartimiento
caído tan
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras

 



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