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poem for pastors

aunque soy poco como todas las pequeñas cosas
lo van
soplador de vidrio del tiempo
cuando un hecho se hace para la libertad
vi que el dios usted la duda?
tormenta
aflíjase no para el invisible
cuando usted viene esta noche
todos dentro y todos sin mí
mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
renueve la visión del placer
miré sobre el cielo glorioso
qué ocasión spiteful roba unawares

 



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