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good bye poem

placeres mediados de y palacios aunque podemos vagar
serene de la tarde y brillante verdes
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
a qué una mujer la comparará querida
todos se callan a lo largo del potomac
usted piensa, mi muchacho, cuando pongo mis brazos alrededor de usted
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
ruédeme abajo por el prado

 



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