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love poems

sea paciente, vida, cuando el amor está en la puerta
antes del santo de bronce solemne
ruédeme abajo por el prado
el aire es lleno de amanecer y de resorte
todos esos tesoros que mienten
el amanecer era verde
los pequeños rezos blancos
glooms de los vivir-robles
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
él incluso tendría su broma
en la esfera
tengo gusto de ella

 



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