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mom poem

ruédeme abajo por el prado
escuche el mar del sonido
fuera del mar chispeante
dije
dije, yo he cerrado mi corazón
sueño, hermano gris de la muerte
usted recuerda
cómo es salvaje, cómo bruja-como extraño que la vida debe ser
el amo de destinos humanos es yo
antes del santo de bronce solemne
musing, entre la puesta del sol y la obscuridad
todos esos tesoros que mienten

 



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