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funeral poem

ella cojea con parar paso doloroso
cuando las horas del día se numeran
déjeme moverse lentamente a través de la calle
los drowses pálidos del día en el occidental empapan
desdeño a mis amigos más que usted
su cara es justa y lisa y fina
usted dice que usted me ama
cuando voy de nuevo a la tierra
veo todos los ingenios humanos

 



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