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suicide poetry

él incluso tendría su broma
encima de los prados ricos con maíz
ochenta años han pasado, y más
el cuerpo puede confinar
no se aflija que encima
cuando las horas del día se numeran
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
no me quemo ningún incienso
allí por la ventana en la vieja casa
ella dijo

 



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