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life poem

y pan del breaketh no más
en su vuelo
dondeyo encuéntrele
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
oí el viento todo el dia
mi alma va revestida en cosas magníficas
la noche era negra y drear
una palabra del vuelo de aquí y allí
lleno esta taza
rompemos el cristal que vino sagrado

 



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