.Lenta bruma cansada de dar al muelle
no veo paisajes más que este mar>que su viento devuella la vida y la calma
que vea sus barcas volver de luz.
Tu sombra hiende la distancia
es cómo un pétalo de sal
y tu mirada me saca el aire
será la herida de Paris.
Piedra y a.
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