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romantic poetry

ella oyó a niños el jugar en el sol
el relámpago destellaba, y levantó
su cara es justa y lisa y fina
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
entre las montañas vagué
la lluvia encima, y el aire brillante
la señora, su corazón ha dado vuelta al polvo
lo van
caras hermosas, tragical


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