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cuando libertad de su altura de la montaña
me preguntan donde he estado
nunca en toda mi vida
levantado de los muertos
debajo de un árbol de la castaña que se separa
mi amor verdadero de su almohadilla se levantó
no éramos muchos
estrella-polvo y luz vaporosa
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
aunque repine del amor, y rozadura de la razón

 



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