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poem for pastors

tiene usted el caminar visto a través de la aldea
mi madre me enseñó que cada noche
en pasillos del sueño usted vagó cerca
lanzaron una piedra, usted lanzaron una piedra
flor blanca de la espuma, flor roja de la llama
ella debe ir detrás, ella dijo
simplemente hablando
asustado no más, digo
los pasillos de mármol resounding largos
usted es mi compañero
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
sobre-habi'a preparado el acontecimiento

 



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