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poetry poem

ahora mientras que están viviendo mis labios
amigo, que sonrisa ha venido ser
pájaros contra el viento de abril
el relámpago destellaba, y levantó
quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
cuando miraba en sus ojos
aflíjase no para el invisible
soy el viento que duda
aunque soy poco como todas las pequeńas cosas
todos esos tesoros que mienten

 



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