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death poem

los días melancólicos han venido
estoy parado en el tiempo gris frío
solitario y solitario
sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
disparando para arriba, cayendo abajo
porqué entonces, la necesidad nosotros ve?
veo todos los ingenios humanos
usted es mi compañero
el más triste del año

 



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