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sad death poem

placeres mediados de y palacios aunque podemos vagar
el sentarse en su eje de balancín que espera su té
una pluma del acero
levantado de los muertos
viejo vino a beber
no del mundo ancho del conjunto
encima de los prados ricos con maíz
y con el pájaro del tarareo
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno

 



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