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grandma poem

mire hacia fuera sobre las estrellas, mi amor
todavĂ­a su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
lo van
y va tan
suavemente llorando
cĂłmo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
le cuento con
las viejas canciones
un pájaro cantó
ruidos que se esfuerzan rasgarse
aunque soy poco como todas las pequeñas cosas

 



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