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short poem

tengo gusto de ella
cuando miraba en sus ojos
debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel
en un viejo compartimiento se encendió suavemente
amigo, que sonrisa ha venido ser
éste es el arsenal
no se aflija que encima
nuestros momentos agradables vuelan
uno por uno, como se va de un árbol
soy fevered
asustado no más, digo
espléndido y terrible su amor
aunque repine del amor, y rozadura de la razón

 



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