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mom poem

un pensamiento dulce solemne
tristemente hablando
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
no del mundo ancho del conjunto
pájaros contra el viento de abril
el existir del cisne
rompemos el cristal que vino sagrado
el rodillo triste del tambor amortiguado tiene golpe
hombre frío severo
claro de luna profundo y blando
si él
la tierra guarda cierto ir de la vibración

 



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