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birthday poetry

él vino tomarme por la mano
lleno esta taza
había tres en el prado al lado del arroyo
buena mujer
era una diosa ere el mármol me encontró
el sol caminó abajo de su trono de oro
sé lo que usted va a decir
hay una hora del resto pacífico
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio
aquí cae ninguna luz
paredes y enorme altos
es verdad que usted dice que los dioses son más uso a usted que hadas
pero alas, sueños justos
haga a muchachos y las muchachas todavía van

 



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