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birthday poetry

caras hermosas, tragical
y con el pájaro del tarareo
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
poco parque que paso a través
ponemos
ruédeme abajo por el prado
en la tierra silenciosa
cuando era adaptó Londres
si el asesino rojo piensa él mata
el solo puño apretado levantado y alista
le hizo oyen hablar siempre
no me quemo ningún incienso

 



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