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baby poem

en el amanecer, él dijo
amé a mujer
hago mi cubierta, pero nadie sabe
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
qué yo le deben
ochenta años han pasado, y más
serene de la tarde y brillante verdes
cuando libertad de su altura de la montaña
deje el unsaid encantador de las palabras
y todavía caminaron encendido
el prado se arrastraba
cuando el viento trabaja contra nosotros en la obscuridad
en la esfera

 



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