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sad poem

como ella
en números mournful
había un strangeness en sus labios
a través del pecho de dolor de la amplia tierra
el solo puńo apretado levantado y alista
cuando libertad de su altura de la montańa
quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
los he oído en la noche
en la medianoche
hasta su ventana del compartimiento
por las mańanas nube-grises
hace tres ańos hoy

 



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