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famous poem

la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
ámeme en el último, o si usted no
la lluvia encima, y el aire brillante
soy fevered
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
contra la llama verde del espino-a'rbol
éste es el arsenal
vi que usted hunched y temblando en las piedras
arrojé mi alma al aire como un vuelo del halcón
hay una hora del resto pacífico
vivido por la orilla
ese año
no éramos muchos

 



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