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poem

estoy parado en el tiempo gris frĂ­o
cántele otra vez a canción cantado
el elevar, como el viento soplĂł
los pequeños rezos blancos
voluntad usted brilla tenuemente en el mar?
el olor del se levantĂł tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
una tormenta está montando en la marea
no ruego para la paz
antes del santo de bronce solemne
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
plantemos

 



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