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memorial poem

serene de la tarde y brillante verdes
dĂ­game no
sé no dónde
de la canción y del sueño para ido siempre
soy una mujer
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
pero alas, sueños justos
cuando las horas del dĂ­a se numeran
cuando el viento trabaja contra nosotros en la obscuridad
ella estallĂł el vino feroz
escuche el mar del sonido

 



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