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thanksgiving poem

cuando era adaptó Londres
cuál guarda
a través del pecho de dolor de la amplia tierra
he venido en el desierto porque mi alma es athirst
mi alma va revestida en cosas magníficas
me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad
debajo de un árbol de la castaña que se separa
déjenos compasión los de quienes sea mejor que nosotros son
con rojo de la sangre de los labios y el corazón de la piedra

 



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