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autumn poetry

un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
el aire es como una mariposa
vi la primera pera
sol y viento y golpe del mar
dígame menos o dígame más
hermoso
vi las nubes entre las colinas
hijas del tiempo
por lo tanto no puedo
para la verdad, para el amor
los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio

 



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