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angel poem

fui arriba y abajo de las calles
aunque repine del amor, y rozadura de la razĂłn
estoy parado en el tiempo gris frĂ­o
cuando el viento trabaja contra nosotros en la obscuridad
apenas ahora
para arropar el pensamiento ardiente
algunos días más ventosos
las verdades tremendas éstos sean
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
de nuestros lugares ocultados
tráigame la canción suave

 



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