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family poetry

todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
usted es hermoso y descolorado
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
viejo vino a beber
la luna de levantamiento ha ocultado las estrellas
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
sueńo dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
lanzaron una piedra, usted lanzaron una piedra
envuelva la tierra en tiempo nublado

 



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