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teen poem

disparando para arriba, cayendo abajo
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche
él habla no bien
debajo del timón del guerrero
era el otoño del año
esos ojos negros i elogiado una vez tan
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
usted dice que usted me ama
flor blanca de la espuma, flor roja de la llama

 



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