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poetry poem

escuche
hay un país por completo del vino
en la esfera
el banquete real fue hecho
revuelva
una niebla conducía abajo
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
aunque soy poco como todas las pequeñas cosas
todavía recuerdo sin duda alguna
éstos sean
la nieve susurra sobre mí
si muero, piense solamente esto en mí
una milla detrás

 



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