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poem for pastors

se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
ella cojea con parar paso doloroso
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
la luna de levantamiento ha ocultado las estrellas
la oscuridad rueda hacia arriba
el niño que lanzó lejos la hoja después de la hoja
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
desdeño a mis amigos más que usted
sobre-habi'a preparado el acontecimiento
en la obscuridad y la paz de mi cama final
todos se callan a lo largo del potomac

 



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