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baby poem

voy mi manera complacently
un pájaro cantó
cuando volvĂ­ en la puesta del sol
cómo es salvaje, cómo bruja-como extraño que la vida debe ser
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
la nieve susurra sobre mĂ­
como vela blanca

 



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