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sex poem

fuera de la ventana un mar de árboles verdes
el cuerpo puede confinar
me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad
tristes son que saben no amor
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
ella era una belleza en los días
pero no puedo ahora leerle
revuelva
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
gaily a través de los campos bailamos
debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel

 



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