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death poetry

en el puerto de York nueva
es usted despierto?
caído tan
ruédeme abajo por el prado
no permanezca no más
sombras coas alas que barren cerca
debajo de la luna de la cosecha
vi que usted hunched y temblando en las piedras
como él de quién alcohol en el resplandor del mediodía
noche misteriosa
qué nosotros ahora hará
simplicidad
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos

 



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