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death poetry

los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio
a qué una mujer la comparará querida
un pequeño melocotón en la huerta creció
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
a lo largo de los bancos
el cielo
materia de la luna
truely
porqué hágale siempre soporte allí que tiembla
vi la primera pera
él vino tomarme por la mano
en septiembre

 



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