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short poem

todavía trece años
cuál era él los motores dichos
me preguntan donde he estado
aquí miente una señora más hermosa
sol y viento y golpe del mar
era una diosa ere el mármol me encontró
la nieve susurra sobre mí
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
suave como la cama en la tierra
nunca sabía que la tierra tenía tanto oro
le detesté

 



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