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sad poetry

apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
quién es el corredor en los cielos
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
ayer por la noche la Luna Llena puso un paño del blanco
el existir del cisne
espléndido y terrible su amor
y todavĂ­a caminaron encendido
suavemente ahora la luz del dĂ­a
cĂłmo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre

 



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