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todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
rompemos el cristal que vino sagrado
quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
porqué hágale siempre soporte allí que tiembla
tengo que decir buonas noches
para la verdad, para el amor
cuando volví en la puesta del sol
ella era una belleza en los días

 



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