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christmas poem

qué yo le deben
he echado el mundo
sé no dónde
nosotros que estaban parados
déme
una tormenta está montando en la marea
si el asesino rojo piensa él mata
era un oysterman joven alto
suavemente ahora la luz del día
encima de los prados ricos con maíz
si había sabido el estrecho una prisión es amor

 



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