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funeral poem

para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
lleno esta taza
todos esos tesoros que mienten
de largo hace, en el claro de luna joven
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
el misterio más oscuro, más extraño
nunca sabía que la tierra tenía tanto oro
es verdad que usted dice que los dioses son más uso a usted que hadas

 



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