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family poem

amé a mujer
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
dice de buenas viejas épocas
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
de'bil-se va volando la canción
le hizo oyen hablar siempre
hay aumentos para todas nuestras pérdidas
por las mañanas nube-grises
hay una hora del resto pacífico

 



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