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love poetry chat

el dulce con el fern y se levantó
déjenos compasión los de quienes sea mejor que nosotros son
déjeme ser triste
travails de la tierra
hijas del tiempo
amo robar un rato lejos
esté en mí como los humores eternos
dentro de mi mano sostengo
la hija, arte del thou viene morir
del sol ni de estrellas
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
el solo puño apretado levantado y alista
soy fevered

 



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