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life poem

estoy muriendo
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades
ahora que me he refrescado a usted
a alguno los dioses gordos
fui arriba y abajo de las calles
la luz retirada
encima de los prados ricos con maĂ­z
el olor del se levantĂł tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
habĂ­a un strangeness en sus labios
dice de buenas viejas épocas
paredes y enorme altos

 



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