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no puedo ahora decirle
fuera del mar chispeante
el olor del se levantó tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
arriba y abajo de él va
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
encima del sur en la rotura del día
hace mil años silenciosos
hace usted oír
la noche era negra y drear
fuera de la ventana un mar de árboles verdes
a qué una mujer la comparará querida

 



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