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wedding poem

bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
sueńo dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
era el otońo del ańo
y todavía caminaron encendido
materia de la luna
me preguntan donde he estado
ella estalló el vino feroz
una pluma del acero
déjenos compasión los de quienes sea mejor que nosotros son

 



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