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father poem

si había sabido el estrecho una prisión es amor
el mirar más allá
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
porqué lo haga
déme
amo mi hora del viento y de la luz
a qué una mujer la comparará querida
en un viejo compartimiento se encendió suavemente
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
ciudad que no es una ciudad
en septiembre
déme el hambre

 



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