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sympathy poem

el elevar, como el viento sopló
tan perdido
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
ésta es la nave de la perla
escuche
una tormenta está montando en la marea
con alegría y maravilla
sobre el río hacen señas a mí
hace usted no oír
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
sueño, hermano gris de la muerte
un pensamiento dulce solemne

 



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