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erotic poetry

en y encendido
hay cualquiera allí
flor blanca de la espuma, flor roja de la llama
ochenta ańos han pasado, y más
musing, entre la puesta del sol y la obscuridad
gaily a través de los campos bailamos
ciudad que no es una ciudad
en septiembre
todos esos tesoros que mienten
estoy muriendo
mi madre me enseńó que cada noche
se levantó y el ámbar era la puesta del sol en el río

 



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