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suicide poem

ella cojea con parar paso doloroso
dos filas de coles
me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad
escuche
he oído que cierta princesa
debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel
expresemos nuestras pasiones más bajas
del sol ni de estrellas
sé no dónde
en su tienda guardada
he venido en el desierto porque mi alma es athirst
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
ésos en el superior dicen que le conocen, tierra -- son mentirosos


 



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