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wedding poetry

simplemente hablando
cuando libertad de su altura de la montaña
esté en mí como los humores eternos
ochenta años han pasado, y más
tormenta
el rodillo triste del tambor amortiguado tiene golpe
el existir del cisne
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
cómo es salvaje, cómo bruja-como extraño que la vida debe ser
allí por la ventana en la vieja casa
ciudad que no es una ciudad
vea el tentativo
no ruego para la paz
melancolía, azul era

 



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