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death poetry

en la obscuridad y la paz de mi cama final
ella cojea con parar paso doloroso
ochenta años han pasado, y más
déme el hambre
cuando libertad de su altura de la montaña
aquí miente una señora más hermosa
fuera del profundo y de la obscuridad
para entonces fuera
sé lo que usted va a decir
la mujer faltó mucho, cómo usted llama a mí, llamada a mí
las canciones antiguas

 



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