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romantic poem

la mujer faltó mucho, cómo usted llama a mí, llamada a mí
una niebla conducía abajo
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte
los he oído en la noche
quién ama la lluvia
nunca en toda mi vida
mi madre me enseñó que cada noche
tenemos ninguna vergüenza?
dentro de mi mano sostengo
para venir tan pronto a esto imaginaba obscuridad

 



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