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epic poetry

el sentarse en su eje de balancín que espera su té
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
oscuro-eyed
vi que el dios usted la duda?
la mujer faltó mucho, cómo usted llama a mí, llamada a mí
hasta su ventana del compartimiento
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
usted oye la lluvia?

 



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