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death poetry

el cielo
desdeño a mis amigos más que usted
ido antes de nosotros
qué nosotros ahora hará
hay un país por completo del vino
el amanecer era verde
estoy muriendo
déjeme ser triste
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
aquí cae ninguna luz
dondeyo encuéntrele
déme
en y de sí mismo

 



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