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son poem

el prado se arrastraba
la luz retirada
cuando voy de nuevo a la tierra
ayer por la noche la Luna Llena puso un paño del blanco
cuando las horas del día se numeran
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
el relámpago destellaba, y levantó
resido en la montaña de la tabla
en y de sí mismo
caído tan
hace mil años silenciosos

 



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