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lost love poem

ciudad que no es una ciudad
poco parque que paso a través
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
los arcos del puente rojo
no permanezca no más
éste es el arsenal
con los ojos mansos, marrones
cuando el velo de los ojos se levanta
la luna de levantamiento ha ocultado las estrellas
hay una hora del resto pacífico
suave como la cama en la tierra
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
tenían él e i pero satisfecho

 



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