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mother daughter poem

con la puesta del sol
flor blanca de la espuma, flor roja de la llama
qué yo le deben
y pan del breaketh no más
ahora mientras que están viviendo mis labios
estoy muriendo
sobre el rĂ­o, en la colina
a alguno los dioses gordos
amo mi vida, pero no demasiado bien

 



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