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love poems

flor blanca de la espuma, flor roja de la llama
y mi nombre es veraz
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
desdeño a mis amigos más que usted
muy bien, usted liberales
ésta es la nave de la perla
había una época en años anteriores
el amo de destinos humanos es yo
los pasillos de mármol resounding largos
hace tres años hoy
asustado no más, digo

 



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