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father poem

renueve la visión del placer
él vino tomarme por la mano
a lo largo de los bancos
una sombra gris fina en el borde del pensamiento
déjeme moverse lentamente a través de la calle
gaily a través de los campos bailamos
dígame no
quién nombrará el viento
las montañas son gente silenciosa
era el otoño del año
paredes y enorme altos

 



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