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african american poetry

déjeme ser triste
mi madre me enseñó que cada noche
cuál deseo comentar
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
una vez este césped suave
arrojé mi alma al aire como un vuelo del halcón
porqué entonces, la necesidad nosotros ve?
su cara es justa y lisa y fina
en y de sí mismo
hasta su ventana del compartimiento

 



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