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religious poem

una sombra gris fina en el borde del pensamiento
con la puesta del sol
si había sabido el estrecho una prisión es amor
lo van
melancolía, azul era
de largo hace, en el claro de luna joven
ella dijo
hay aumentos para todas nuestras pérdidas
se hace el día
aunque repine del amor, y rozadura de la razón
era muchas y mucho hace un año
nunca en toda mi vida
con los ojos mansos, marrones

 



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