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mother poem

amé a mujer
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
mire hacia fuera sobre las estrellas, mi amor
flores de bebés
la lluvia encima, y el aire brillante
está a menudo no tan?
evidenciado en la luz tenue en sus ojos
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
arriba y abajo de él va

 



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