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era un oysterman joven alto
en números mournful
el cuerpo puede confinar
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
la medianoche pasada
sobre-habi'a preparado el acontecimiento
tan perdido
soy el viento que duda
pasado implacable del thou
mi madre me enseñó que cada noche
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
en la esfera

 



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