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poem for dad

vi la primera pera
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
en nĂşmeros mournful
una pluma del acero
cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
la luz retirada
ese compañero extraño vino en mezclar pies
las canciones antiguas
sobre-habi'a preparado el acontecimiento
los pasillos de mármol resounding largos
lleno esta taza
felicidad

 



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