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mother poem

uno por uno, como se va de un árbol
la oscuridad roba las formas de todas las reinas
los días endeared a cada MUSE
era no para ese olor singular
arriba y abajo de él va
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
ella dijo
en pueda
muy bien, usted liberales
los pasillos de mármol resounding largos
escuche
gloom
para entonces fuera
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar

 



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