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nature poem

mi alma es un campo arado oscuro
me pregunto donde usted vive
el aire es como una mariposa
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
las verdades tremendas éstos sean
en y encendido
fuera de mí indigno y desconocido
mi madre me enseńó que cada noche
el cielo
tristemente hablando
por lo tanto no puedo
cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad

 



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