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anniversary poetry

burly, humilde-abeja el dormitar
mi madre me enseñó que cada noche
como águilas en colmo ascendente
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio
aflíjase no para el invisible
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
una tormenta está montando en la marea
la oscuridad rueda hacia arriba
ochenta años han pasado, y más
ahora para una lucha enérgica y alegre
había una época en años anteriores
vea, de esta falsificación de él

 



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