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mother poem

soy el viento que duda
ella dijo
gaily a través de los campos bailamos
en la obscuridad y la paz de mi cama final
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
al amante apasionado
sueńo dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
el aire es lleno de amanecer y de resorte
dos filas de coles

 



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