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thank you poem

por completo de rasgones
usted oye la lluvia?
ella era una belleza en los días
ochenta años han pasado, y más
vea, ellos vuelven
sueño, hermano gris de la muerte
ella dijo
trenzado y tejido
usted piensa, mi muchacho, cuando pongo mis brazos alrededor de usted
tengo gusto de ella
a lo largo de una orilla
pero no puedo ahora leerle
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
cuando era adaptó Londres

 



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