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poem

usted oye la lluvia?
buena mujer
déjeme ser triste
los pasillos de mármol resounding largos
usted es mi compañero
sobre-habi'a preparado el acontecimiento
mi madre me enseñó que cada noche
en un viejo compartimiento se encendió suavemente
en sus brazos estaba el placer inmóvil
ciudad que no es una ciudad

 



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