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footprint poem

el cielo
viejo vino a beber
escuche
mi alma es un campo arado oscuro
cuando las horas del día se numeran
mi madre me enseńó que cada noche
la medianoche pasada
splendor dulce
y como caminamos la hierba fue revuelta débilmente
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
tristemente hablando
vivido por la orilla
como águilas en colmo ascendente

 



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