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african american poetry

una vez este césped suave
he tenido un miedo en mi vida
cuando volví en la puesta del sol
quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel
contra la llama verde del espino-a'rbol
en y de sí mismo
flor blanca de la espuma, flor roja de la llama
hay uno que ese i amó una vez tanto
como vela blanca


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