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brother poem

no puedo ahora decirle
en números mournful
raza alto-llevada
no hay escape al lado del río
cortocircuito y dulce, y hemos venido al extremo de él
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
quién es el corredor en los cielos
dios
a lo largo de una orilla
el existir del cisne

 



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