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autumn poem

la oscuridad roba las formas de todas las reinas
ruédeme abajo por el prado
rosas y oro
espléndido y terrible su amor
babylon -- donde voy a soñar
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
ponemos
hace tres años hoy
el dulce con el fern y se levantó
sobre ellas todas, mirando abajo
he echado el mundo
arqueó la inundación

 



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