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mom poem

mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio
voluntad usted brilla tenuemente en el mar?
con los ojos mansos, marrones
no sea falso
haga a muchachos y las muchachas todavía van
los arcos del puente rojo
ayer por la noche la Luna Llena puso un paño del blanco
gloom

 



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