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sad poem

cuál era él los motores dichos
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
repentinamente, fuera de maneras oscuras y frondosas
uno por uno, como se va de un árbol
el banquete real fue hecho
tengo que decir buonas noches
calma como que segundo verano
soplador de vidrio del tiempo
estoy muriendo
los drowses pálidos del día en el occidental empapan
en la tierra silenciosa

 



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