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poetry

su cara es justa y lisa y fina
escuche el mar del sonido
hace usted oír
reservado, con reverance, en temor
éste es el arsenal
del sol ni de estrellas
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
pharaoh, rey de la tierra de Egipto
mi alma va revestida en cosas magníficas
repentinamente, fuera de maneras oscuras y frondosas
estaba parado
para venir tan pronto a esto imaginaba obscuridad

 



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