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spanish poem

there is no flock, however watched and tended
i had a dream and i awoke with it
perhaps it is no matter that you died
though i am little as all little things
let us pity those who are better off than we are
no prey am i of poor thoughts
let me move slowly through the street
i love my hour of wind and light
risen from the dead
she knows a cheap release
i saw the clouds among the hills

 



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