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thank you poem

viejo vino a beber
del sol ni de estrellas
tengo que decir buonas noches
la mujer faltó mucho, cómo usted llama a mí, llamada a mí
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
una tormenta está montando en la marea
ochenta años han pasado, y más
en pasillos del sueño usted vagó cerca
como baja el igualar
usted está claro
no permanezca no más


 



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