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life poetry

no se aflija que encima
dije
déjeme moverse lentamente a través de la calle
se levantó y el ámbar era la puesta del sol en el río
era el otoño del año
un destello del oro en gloom y gris
dos filas de coles
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
trenzado y tejido
sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano

 



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