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child poem

en un viejo compartimiento se encendió suavemente
vivido por la orilla
dos filas de coles
amo mi hora del viento y de la luz
hace mil años silenciosos
serene de la tarde y brillante verdes
ese año
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
vea, ellos vuelven
la pienso espléndido justo
una pluma del acero
todos esos tesoros que mienten
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres

 



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