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broken heart poem

la hija, arte del thou viene morir
dondeyo encuéntrele
soy una mujer
aunque soy poco como todas las pequeñas cosas
es usted despierto?
nunca en toda mi vida
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
esposa querida
mientras que estaba parado escuchar, discreto mudo
para arropar el pensamiento ardiente
resido en la montaña de la tabla
envuelva la tierra en tiempo nublado
había una época en años anteriores

 



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