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fall poem

el mirar más allá
truely
tome mis pulseras
la mujer faltó mucho, cómo usted llama a mí, llamada a mí
en sus brazos estaba el placer inmóvil
porqué hágale siempre soporte allí que tiembla
asustado no más, digo
la noche era negra y drear
las cortinas de la noche caían rápidamente
el niño que lanzó lejos la hoja después de la hoja
desdeño a mis amigos más que usted
tengo que decir buonas noches
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio
antes del santo de bronce solemne

 



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