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grandmother poem

cuando volví en la puesta del sol
pájaros contra el viento de abril
ruidos que se esfuerzan rasgarse
una vez este césped suave
un pequeño melocotón en la huerta creció
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
algunos días más ventosos
ahora para una lucha enérgica y alegre
caído tan
dígame menos o dígame más

 



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