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angel poem

hay aumentos para todas nuestras pérdidas
Ąbajo!' tis a la noche de la gala
el dulce con el fern y se levantó
naranjas de desplume nubian azul-negras
en la esfera
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte
vi las nubes entre las colinas
las montańas son gente silenciosa

 



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