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grandmother poem

las montañas son gente silenciosa
amigo, que sonrisa ha venido ser
el rodillo triste del tambor amortiguado tiene golpe
sé lo que usted va a decir
ésta es la canción de la juventud
dos filas de coles
truely
serene de la tarde y brillante verdes
con rojo de la sangre de los labios y el corazón de la piedra
tristemente hablando
cómo es salvaje, cómo bruja-como extraño que la vida debe ser

 



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