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christmas poem

quién ama la lluvia
en pueda
plantemos
antes del santo de bronce solemne
pero alas, sueños justos
rosas y oro
vi la primera pera
soy una mujer
he tenido un miedo en mi vida
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
a alguno los dioses gordos

 



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