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fall poetry

debajo de un árbol de la castaña que se separa
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
la medianoche pasada
el prado se arrastraba
mire hacia fuera sobre las estrellas, mi amor
no permanezca no más
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
tome mis pulseras
si era muy seguro
usted dice que usted me ama

 



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