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christian poem

al amante apasionado
cĂłmo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
cuál era él los motores dichos
felicidad
cuando libertad de su altura de la montaña
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
la luna de levantamiento ha ocultado las estrellas
sé lo que usted va a decir
él habla no bien
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
hijas del tiempo
hay uno que ese i amĂł una vez tanto
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo

 



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