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family poetry

sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
los he oído en la noche
los pequeños rezos blancos
oscuro-eyed
arrojé mi alma al aire como un vuelo del halcón
las montañas son gente silenciosa
tengo que decir buonas noches
soplador de vidrio del tiempo
entre las montañas vagué

 



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