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child poem

cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
ruédeme abajo por el prado
por la orilla, por el mar
déjeme moverse lentamente a través de la calle
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
soy el viento que duda
de piso al techo
nosotros que estaban parados
una vez este césped suave
tengo que decir buonas noches
estoy muriendo
sombras coas alas que barren cerca

 



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