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grandmother poem

para la verdad, para el amor
me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad
los arcos del puente rojo
en pasillos del sueño usted vagó cerca
le detesté
simplemente hablando
el rodillo triste del tambor amortiguado tiene golpe
fuera de la ventana un mar de árboles verdes
era no para ese olor singular
puesto que, si usted hizo una pausa mi lado hoy
la agonía del tener demasiada energía
los poetas dicen


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