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child poem

él vino tomarme por la mano
ruédeme abajo por el prado
porqué lo haga
flor blanca de la espuma, flor roja de la llama
ahora que me he refrescado a usted
cuando voy de nuevo a la tierra
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
no hay escape al lado del rĂ­o
amé a mujer
mire detrás con los ojos longing y sepa que seguiré
no del mundo ancho del conjunto

 



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