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grandmother poem

paredes y enorme altos
éste es el arsenal
ciudad que no es una ciudad
debajo de mi ventana en una calle de la ciudad
renueve la visión del placer
quién nombrará el viento
en todas las cosas no habladas de
he venido en el desierto porque mi alma es athirst
en pueda
usted es mi compañero
soy fevered
fuera de la ventana un mar de árboles verdes

 



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