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sad poem

el existir del cisne
en su vuelo
tengo gusto de ella
nunca sabía que la tierra tenía tanto oro
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
cómo es salvaje, cómo bruja-como extraño que la vida debe ser
fuera de la ventana un mar de árboles verdes
la mujer faltó mucho, cómo usted llama a mí, llamada a mí
noche misteriosa
para poder ver cada lado de cada pregunta

 



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