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teacher poem

hermano, soy fuego
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte
soplador de vidrio del tiempo
dulce y fuerte
cómo es salvaje, cómo bruja-como extraño que la vida debe ser
cuando miraba en sus ojos
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
dígame menos o dígame más
debajo de mi ventana en una calle de la ciudad
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
vi la primera pera

 



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