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grandmother poem

plantemos
fuera del profundo y de la obscuridad
sé no dónde
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
la noche era negra y drear
ámeme en el último, o si usted no
los días endeared a cada MUSE
en su tienda guardada
amo mi vida, pero no demasiado bien
debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio
había una época en años anteriores

 



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