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death poem

todavía recuerdo sin duda alguna
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
en su tienda guardada
las canciones antiguas
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
oí el viento todo el dia
con alegría y maravilla
como águilas en colmo ascendente
rompemos el cristal que vino sagrado
le estoy cantando
era el otoño del año

 



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