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spanish poem

el aire es lleno de amanecer y de resorte
cuando volvĂ­ en la puesta del sol
fui arriba y abajo de las calles
pasado implacable del thou
ochenta años han pasado, y más
usted piensa, mi muchacho, cuando pongo mis brazos alrededor de usted
cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
el sentarse en su eje de balancín que espera su té
como vela blanca

 



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