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christmas poetry

las montañas son gente silenciosa
amigo, que sonrisa ha venido ser
el pequeño lamentable, usado, caras el reír
ochenta años han pasado, y más
ahora que me he refrescado a usted
en su tienda guardada
lo van
sol y viento y golpe del mar
espléndido y terrible su amor
para venir tan pronto a esto imaginaba obscuridad
la oscuridad roba las formas de todas las reinas
me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad

 



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