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concrete poetry

de'bil-se va volando la canción
la nieve susurra sobre mí
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
cuando era adaptó Londres
tenemos ninguna vergüenza?
el existir del cisne
estoy viejo y oculto
de nuestros lugares ocultados
hombre frío severo
mi alma va revestida en cosas magníficas
en sus brazos estaba el placer inmóvil
ayer por la noche la Luna Llena puso un paño del blanco

 



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