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christmas poetry

todavĂ­a su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
hay cualquiera allĂ­
déjeme moverse lentamente a través de la calle
una vez este césped suave
nunca habĂ­a un sonido al lado de la madera pero de una
ella puede ser que lo haya sabido en el resorte anterior
mejore que el granito
dije, yo he cerrado mi corazĂłn
el sol caminĂł abajo de su trono de oro
lleno esta taza
cuando voy de nuevo a la tierra

 



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