Dios mÃo, estoy llorando el ser que vivo;
me pesa haber tomádote tu pan;
pero este pobre barro pensativo
no es costra fermentada en tu costado:
¡tú no tienes MarÃas que se van!
Dios mÃo, si tú hubieras sido hombre,
hoy supieras ser Dios;
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