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poem for pastors

en pasillos del sueño usted vagó cerca
en la obscuridad y la paz de mi cama final
veré una estrella esta noche
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades
su cara es justa y lisa y fina
si muero, piense solamente esto en mí
soplador de vidrio del tiempo
una palabra del vuelo de aquí y allí
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
por la orilla, por el mar

 



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