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sister poem

el prado se arrastraba
para mí era concejal gaunt, grave
al amante apasionado
qué yo le deben
un destello del oro en gloom y gris
ido antes de nosotros
las cortinas de la noche caían rápidamente
era no para ese olor singular
los arcos del puente rojo
la señora, su corazón ha dado vuelta al polvo
resido en la montaña de la tabla
en un viejo compartimiento se encendió suavemente
dios

 



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