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funeral poem

el olor del se levantó tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
me preguntan donde he estado
vea, ellos vuelven
burly, humilde-abeja el dormitar
los pequeños rezos blancos
envuelva la tierra en tiempo nublado
en su tienda guardada
en su vuelo
a qué una mujer la comparará querida
algún se quejó al amo
ella debe ir detrás, ella dijo

 



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