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epic poetry

el aire es como una mariposa
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
quién nombrará el viento
cuando libertad de su altura de la montaña
vea, de esta falsificación de él
hay uno que ese i amó una vez tanto
le cuento con
raza alto-llevada
no me quemo ningún incienso
sobre el río hacen señas a mí
ésta es la canción de la juventud

 



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