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thanksgiving poetry

me pregunto donde usted vive
un pequeño melocotón en la huerta creció
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
el aire es como una mariposa
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
simplicidad
un cielo que nunca ha sabido el sol, la luna o las estrellas
usted está claro
nuestros momentos agradables vuelan

 



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