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baby poem

este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte
el amo de destinos humanos es yo
babylon -- donde voy a soñar
pero alas, sueños justos
estoy viejo y oculto
hay una hora del resto pacífico
paredes y enorme altos
ella dijo
hay aumentos para todas nuestras pérdidas
en su vuelo

 



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