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love poems

hace usted oír
estoy muriendo
dije
y cómo podría usted sueño de la reunión
amo mi hora del viento y de la luz
con los ojos mansos, marrones
un destello del oro en gloom y gris
dice de buenas viejas épocas
ponemos
usted es mi compañero
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves

 



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