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african american poetry

uno por uno, como se va de un árbol
aquí miente una señora más hermosa
su cara es justa y lisa y fina
debajo del timón del guerrero
mundo que cambia bajo mi mano
he venido en el desierto porque mi alma es athirst
soy fevered
hay tres maneras de las cuales los hombres toman
en el amanecer, él dijo
la nieve susurra sobre mí
pájaros contra el viento de abril

 



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