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christmas poems

mi madre me enseñó que cada noche
venido abajo en el amanecer de las colinas windless
cuando un hecho se hace para la libertad
no sea falso
soplador de vidrio del tiempo
cuando el viento trabaja contra nosotros en la obscuridad
expresemos nuestras pasiones más bajas
un destello del oro en gloom y gris
era el otoño del año

 



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