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mom poem

usted es hermoso y descolorado
esté en mí como los humores eternos
suavemente ahora la luz del día
entre las montañas vagué
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
cuando miraba en sus ojos
sol y viento y golpe del mar
el movimiento de su cuerpo es como música
raza alto-llevada
en pasillos del sueño usted vagó cerca
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre

 



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