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death poem

camino abajo de las trayectorias del jardín
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
burly, humilde-abeja el dormitar
mire detrás con los ojos longing y sepa que seguiré
sombras coas alas que barren cerca
tome mis pulseras
cuando el viento trabaja contra nosotros en la obscuridad
tengo gusto de ella

 



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