Y si desbordando mis pupilas llegaste, miraste, venciste, y te quedaste. Tiene nombre el amor en tu figura, en ti, tú, la manifiesta. Me demandas en blanco, rosa y negro, atril de la esperanza. Pero, en fin, nada de lo que te diga será suficiente para marcar lo que representas. Porque ya sabes, amor, que en ti, no se puede tener frío en primavera.
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