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grandma poem

sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
vea, ellos vuelven
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
cántele otra vez a canción cantado
el solo puño apretado levantado y alista
debajo de un árbol de la castaña que se separa
venido abajo en el amanecer de las colinas windless

 



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