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son poem

dondeyo encuéntrele
estoy viejo y oculto
no me quemo ningún incienso
vi que usted hunched y temblando en las piedras
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
hago mi cubierta, pero nadie sabe
nunca en toda mi vida
ella era una belleza en los días
allí por la ventana en la vieja casa
es usted vivo?
el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo

 



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