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family poem

en septiembre
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades
vi las nubes entre las colinas
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
no me quemo ningún incienso
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
le hizo oyen hablar siempre
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche
ochenta años han pasado, y más
una milla detrás
ahora que me he refrescado a usted
para mí era concejal gaunt, grave

 



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