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sad poetry

a qué una mujer la comparará querida
disparando para arriba, cayendo abajo
cuando las horas del día se numeran
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
fuera de mí indigno y desconocido
dentro de mi mano sostengo
arriba y abajo de él va
tres días los oí afligirse cuando pongo absolutamente
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche

 



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