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mother poem

el sol caminó abajo de su trono de oro
dos filas de coles
para venir tan pronto a esto imaginaba obscuridad
le estoy cantando
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
en la obscuridad y la paz de mi cama final
voy mi manera complacently
rosas y oro
no me quemo ningún incienso
para mirar todo el dia la onda azul encresparse y romperse
suavemente ahora la luz del día

 



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