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sad poem

déme el hambre
el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
ella oyó a niños el jugar en el sol
la luna de levantamiento ha ocultado las estrellas
expresemos nuestras pasiones más bajas
mi alma es un campo arado oscuro
soy el viento que duda
hace tres años hoy
y con el pájaro del tarareo
tenemos ninguna vergüenza?

 



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