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grandmother poem

paredes y enorme altos
quién nombrará el viento
ésta es la nave de la perla
sobre ellas todas, mirando abajo
déjeme moverse lentamente a través de la calle
una pluma del acero
en y de sí mismo
sueño, hermano gris de la muerte
no hay escape al lado del río
me preguntan donde he estado
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?

 



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