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baby poem

travails de la tierra
ese compańero extrańo vino en mezclar pies
pero no puedo ahora leerle
amo mi vida, pero no demasiado bien
usted recuerda
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte
una milla detrás
no puedo ahora decirle
el solo puńo apretado levantado y alista

 



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