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autumn poem

flores de bebés
caras hermosas, tragical
hay aumentos para todas nuestras pérdidas
deje una subsistencia de la alegría usted
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
qué yo le deben
he venido en el desierto porque mi alma es athirst
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
era un oysterman joven alto
los pequeños rezos blancos
arqueó la inundación
debajo del timón del guerrero
los hice una oferta todo el adiós

 



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