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pastor appreciation poem

veo todos los ingenios humanos
como vela blanca
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
el aire es lleno de amanecer y de resorte
las canciones antiguas
todos dentro y todos sin mí
mi madre me enseńó que cada noche
fuera de la ventana un mar de árboles verdes
ella estalló el vino feroz
tengo gusto de ella

 



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