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erotic poetry

nunca sabía que la tierra tenía tanto oro
como vela blanca
hice un voto una vez, uno solamente
sobre el río, en la colina
aquí miente una señora más hermosa
los pasillos de mármol resounding largos
la oscuridad roba las formas de todas las reinas
sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
para la verdad, para el amor

 



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