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caído tan
debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel
deje el unsaid encantador de las palabras
el más triste del año
ciudad que no es una ciudad
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
la mujer faltó mucho, cómo usted llama a mí, llamada a mí
los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio
renueve la visión del placer
cuando usted viene esta noche

 



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