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sad death poem

sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
gaily a través de los campos bailamos
algunos de los daños que usted ha curado
compuesto de loveliness solamente
como vela blanca
trenzado y tejido
tormenta
mundo que cambia bajo mi mano
amé a mujer
es usted despierto?
una vez este césped suave

 



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