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son poem

si era muy seguro
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
todos tragan los años
los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio
en un viejo compartimiento se encendiĂł suavemente
no hay escape al lado del rĂ­o
cuando libertad de su altura de la montaña
cuando miraba en sus ojos
mejore que el granito
ella era una belleza en los dĂ­as
en la esfera

 



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