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child poetry

nosotros que estaban parados
con los ojos mansos, marrones
el sol está para arriba
burly, humilde-abeja el dormitar
dije, yo he cerrado mi corazón
la oscuridad
tristemente hablando
la señora, su corazón ha dado vuelta al polvo
no sea falso
estoy muriendo
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente

 



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