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mom poem

sé no dónde
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
con la puesta del sol
repentinamente, fuera de maneras oscuras y frondosas
splendor dulce
una vez este césped suave
a través del pecho de dolor de la amplia tierra
había una época en años anteriores
la señora, su corazón ha dado vuelta al polvo
en septiembre
suavemente llorando
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
el sol está para arriba

 



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