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son poem

era no para ese olor singular
por las mañanas nube-grises
nosotros que estaban parados
en un viejo compartimiento se encendió suavemente
los días endeared a cada MUSE
una pluma del acero
uno por uno, como se va de un árbol
voluntad usted brilla tenuemente en el mar?
amigo, que sonrisa ha venido ser

 



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