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mom poem

ésos en el superior dicen que le conocen, tierra -- son mentirosos
sueńo, hermano gris de la muerte
como baja el igualar
mundo que cambia bajo mi mano
la pienso espléndido justo
puesto que, si usted hizo una pausa mi lado hoy
uno por uno, como se va de un árbol
los pequeńos rezos blancos
glooms de los vivir-robles
en el puerto de York nueva

 



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