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son poem

le hizo oyen hablar siempre
los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio
tristemente hablando
cuál deseo comentar
el aire es lleno de amanecer y de resorte
vea que me doy usted
el cielo
burly, humilde-abeja el dormitar
en la obscuridad y la paz de mi cama final
por lo tanto no puedo
no me quemo ningún incienso
escrito en una noche del vuelo

 



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