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family poem

usted piensa, mi muchacho, cuando pongo mis brazos alrededor de usted
gloom
todos tragan los años
debajo de un árbol de la castaña que se separa
es usted despierto?
de'bil-se va volando la canciĂłn
a alguno los dioses gordos
la noche era negra y drear
algunos días más ventosos

 



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