Maria
To this day still, Like the memory of a rose on a sun-shining day,
You, witness to what this cold world can do to bring pain,
as your hands gently tremble and your lips await in agony
to tell their story, because the answers to it are stuck behind them.
The likes of a virgin, destined for the mean of time, suspended
from the paragon in which you live in and love so much.
And by where you dwell a breeze breathes as it passes the way
a sudden rain would be the explodin' 'o into tears.
Jorge Isaacs
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