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erotic poem

he oído que cierta princesa
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
ese año
estoy parado en el tiempo gris frío
simplicidad
fuera de mí indigno y desconocido
felicidad
en el puerto de York nueva
la oscuridad rueda hacia arriba

 



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