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kid poem

mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocĂ­o
una mirada es solamente un rayo
de nuestros lugares ocultados
a qué una mujer la comparará querida
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
amo las viejas endechas melodious
pájaros contra el viento de abril
debajo del timĂłn del guerrero

 



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