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autumn poem

éste es el arsenal
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
la pienso espléndido justo
hace tres años hoy
hijas del tiempo
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
había tres en el prado al lado del arroyo
dígame
nunca en toda mi vida
las canciones antiguas
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
déjenos compasión los de quienes sea mejor que nosotros son
arriba y abajo de él va
le hizo oyen hablar siempre

 



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