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type of poetry

era un oysterman joven alto
pero alas, sueńos justos
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche
hasta su ventana del compartimiento
la hija, arte del thou viene morir
con rojo de la sangre de los labios y el corazón de la piedra
cuando, lleno de amor caliente e impaciente

 



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