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sister poem

un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
una tormenta está montando en la marea
soy el viento que duda
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
o justo y stately criada, que ojos
era una diosa ere el mármol me encontró
nunca sabía que la tierra tenía tanto oro
hijas del tiempo
cuando usted viene esta noche
fuera del mar chispeante
como águilas en colmo ascendente

 



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