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erotic poem

cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio
la lluvia encima, y el aire brillante
aquí miente una señora más hermosa
ésta es la canción de la juventud
sobre ellas todas, mirando abajo
felicidad
sobre-habi'a preparado el acontecimiento
tome mis pulseras

 



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