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birthday poem

este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
una pluma del acero
todavía recuerdo sin duda alguna
en un viejo compartimiento se encendió suavemente
camino abajo de las trayectorias del jardín
esos ojos negros i elogiado una vez tan
tome mis pulseras
porqué hágale siempre soporte allí que tiembla
ciudad que no es una ciudad
su cara es justa y lisa y fina

 



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