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poem for dad

el sol caminó abajo de su trono de oro
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
cuando libertad de su altura de la montańa
sea paciente, vida, cuando el amor está en la puerta
he venido en el desierto porque mi alma es athirst
los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
vea, ellos vuelven
sol y viento y golpe del mar
una sombra gris fina en el borde del pensamiento
no éramos muchos
el dulce con el fern y se levantó

 



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