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sad poetry

ella dijo
si el asesino rojo piensa él mata
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
como vela blanca
la pienso espléndido justo
calma como que segundo verano
allí por la ventana en la vieja casa
cuando miraba en sus ojos
dulce y fuerte
algunos días más ventosos
hace de largo la luz del sol del verano brillar
pero alas, sueños justos
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden


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