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birthday poem

y pan del breaketh no más
en todas las cosas no habladas de
simplemente hablando
debajo de la luna de la cosecha
miré sobre el cielo glorioso
no éramos muchos
soplador de vidrio del tiempo
rosas y oro
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades
ochenta años han pasado, y más
todavĂ­a su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
por completo de rasgones

 



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