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romantic poem

aquí miente una señora más hermosa
y como caminamos la hierba fue revuelta débilmente
debajo de la luna de la cosecha
como él de quién alcohol en el resplandor del mediodía
qué yo le deben
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
evidenciado en la luz tenue en sus ojos
felicidad
usted piensa, mi muchacho, cuando pongo mis brazos alrededor de usted
debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel

 



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