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love poems

no ruego para la paz
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
cómo es salvaje, cómo bruja-como extraño que la vida debe ser
quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
los días hypocritic
usted es mi compañero
por las mañanas nube-grises
cuál era él los motores dichos

 



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