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memorial poem

mi madre me enseñó que cada noche
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
en sus brazos estaba el placer inmóvil
y cómo podría usted sueño de la reunión
venido abajo en el amanecer de las colinas windless
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte
me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad
ella estalló el vino feroz

 



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