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autumn poem

pero alas, sueños justos
era el otoño del año
caído tan
sobre el río hacen señas a mí
esposa querida
para mirar todo el dia la onda azul encresparse y romperse
cortocircuito y dulce, y hemos venido al extremo de él
solitario y solitario
a través del pecho de dolor de la amplia tierra
los pequeños rezos blancos
tristes son que saben no amor
una tormenta está montando en la marea

 



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