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poems

en la esfera
la lluvia encima, y el aire brillante
encima del sur en la rotura del día
nunca sabía que la tierra tenía tanto oro
flor blanca de la espuma, flor roja de la llama
estoy muriendo
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
todos dentro y todos sin mí
él habla no bien
estos corazones fueron tejidos de alegrías y de cuidados humanos
apenas ahora
hombre frío severo
todavía trece años
simplicidad

 



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