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autumn poetry

el prado se arrastraba
vi la primera pera
encima de los prados ricos con maĂ­z
en pueda
por las mañanas nube-grises
la lluvia encima, y el aire brillante
en sus brazos estaba el placer inmĂłvil
le detesté
ella sabe un lanzamiento barato
mire detrás con los ojos longing y sepa que seguiré
esté en mí como los humores eternos
la pienso espléndido justo
hace mil años silenciosos

 



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