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been

The day dawns Dress gray

is a leaden morning earlier this month, and you cry

their name in your empty room:

page

is your voice and the word was silence.

How throbs the moment, what melancholy

gestures

flee devastated by tears,

to hide the moment

and crystal chimes.

But again, the stars

envelop you in its beauty, commit suicide, is the time!

The hourglass spills its last drop

embossed

at dawn.

Enrique Gonzalez Villagrasa

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