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short love poem

una niebla conducía abajo
quién ama la lluvia
las verdades tremendas éstos sean
en y de sí mismo
las sombras ponen a lo largo de broadway
todos esos tesoros que mienten
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
la agonía del tener demasiada energía
mi madre me enseñó que cada noche
vi las nubes entre las colinas
por la orilla, por el mar

 



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