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family poetry

si él
tenían él e i pero satisfecho
le cuento con
aunque repine del amor, y rozadura de la razón
no dé vuelta a su cabeza
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte
su cara es justa y lisa y fina
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
estoy muriendo
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
soy una mujer
deje una subsistencia de la alegría usted

 



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