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death poem

hombre frío severo
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
he ganado la raza
dígame
asustado no más, digo
por la orilla, por el mar
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
el eliminar, luchando vainly
le detesté
éstos sean
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche

 



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