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friend poem

su pelo hermoso
camino abajo de las trayectorias del jardín
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
para arropar el pensamiento ardiente
tiene usted el caminar visto a través de la aldea
el sol está para arriba
en septiembre
todos dentro y todos sin mí
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
arriba y abajo de él va


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