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short poem

solitario y solitario
no esté enojado con mí
era muchas y mucho hace un año
ruédeme abajo por el prado
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
todos tragan los años
para entonces fuera
arriba y abajo de él va
mientras que estaba parado escuchar, discreto mudo
no sea falso
tristemente hablando


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