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family poem

no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
no me quemo ningún incienso
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
el rodillo triste del tambor amortiguado tiene golpe
vi la primera pera
contra la llama verde del espino-a'rbol
serene de la tarde y brillante verdes
babylon -- donde voy a soñar
en su tienda guardada
sobre el río hacen señas a mí
todos dentro y todos sin mí
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
las naves están mintiendo en la bahía

 



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