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family poetry

antes del santo de bronce solemne
cuando el viento trabaja contra nosotros en la obscuridad
estoy parado en el tiempo gris frío
fuera de mí indigno y desconocido
rompemos el cristal que vino sagrado
aunque repine del amor, y rozadura de la razón
a qué una mujer la comparará querida
un pájaro cantó
el mirar más allá

 



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