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romantic poem

apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
cuando volví en la puesta del sol
ponemos
el elevar, como el viento sopló
era un oysterman joven alto
y va tan
era el otoño del año
los poetas dicen
hombre frío severo
para poder ver cada lado de cada pregunta
le hizo oyen hablar siempre

 



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