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child poem

a alguno los dioses gordos
el amanecer era verde
de largo hace, en el claro de luna joven
los pequeños rezos blancos
estoy muriendo
entre las montañas vagué
el misterio más oscuro, más extraño
placeres mediados de y palacios aunque podemos vagar
arqueĂł la inundaciĂłn
con los ojos mansos, marrones
como águilas en colmo ascendente
le estoy cantando

 



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