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nature poem

en septiembre
qué nosotros ahora hará
soy fevered
por las mañanas nube-grises
las naves están mintiendo en la bahía
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
es verdad que usted dice que los dioses son más uso a usted que hadas
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
para poder ver cada lado de cada pregunta
las estrellas cayeron de cielo

 



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