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mom poem

uno con usted
no me quemo ningún incienso
sobre-habi'a preparado el acontecimiento
raza alto-llevada
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche
ochenta años han pasado, y más
las verdades tremendas éstos sean
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
trenzado y tejido
tristemente hablando

 



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